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JOHNSON 


HISTORY OF RASSELAS 


PRINCE OF ABYSSINIA 


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NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
1894 

COaMS. 

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Copyright, 1894, 

* by 

HENRY HOLT & CO. 


THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
RAHWAY, N. J. 


CONTENTS 


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CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Description of a Palace in a Valley, . i 

II. The Discontent of Rasselas in the Happy 

Valley,* 4 

III. The Wants of Him that Wants Nothing, . 7 

IV. The Prince Continues to Grieve and Muse, 9 

V. The Prince Meditates His Escape, . . 13 

VI. A Dissertation on the Art of Flying, . 15 

VII. The Prince Finds a Man of Learning, . 19 

VIII. The History of Imlac, . . .21 

IX. The History of Imlac Continued, . . 25 

X. Imlac’s History Continued. A Disserta- 
tion upon Poetry, 28 

XI. Imlac’s Narrative Continued. A Hint on 

Pilgrimage 31 

XII. The Story of Imlac Continued, ... 35 

XIII. Rasselas Discovers the Means of Escape, 40 

XIV. Rasselas and Imlac Receive an Unexpected 

Visit, 43 

XV. The Prince and Princess Leave the Val- 
ley and See Many Wonders, ... 44 

XVI. They Enter Cairo and Find Every Man 

Happy, 47 

XVII. The Prince Associates with Young Men of 

Spirit and Gayety, 51 

XVIII. The Prince Finds a Wise and Happy Man, 52 
XIX. A Glimpse of Pastoral Life, ... 55 

XX. The Danger of Prosperity, . . .57 

iii 


CHAPTER 

XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV.. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 

XXXVIII. 

XXXIX. 

XL. 

XLI. 

XLII. 

XLIII. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

The Happiness of Solitude. The Her- 
mit’s History, 59 

The Happiness of a Life Led* according 

to Nature, 62 

The Prince and His Sister Divide be- 
tween THEM THE WORK OF OBSERVATION, 65 

The Prince Examines the Happiness of 


High Stations, 66 

The Princess Pursues Her Inquiry with 
more Diligence than Success, . . 67 

The Princess Continues Her Remarks 
upon Private Life, .... 70 

Disquisition upon Greatness, * 73 

Rasselas and Nek ay ah Continue their 

Conversation, 75 

The Debate on Marriage Continued, 78 
Imlac Enters and Changes the Conver- 
sation, 83 

They Visit the Pyramids, ... 86 

They Enter the Pyramid, . . 88 

The Princess Meets with an Unex- 
pected Misfortune, .... 90 

They Return to Cairo without Pekuah, 91 
The Princess Continues to Lament 

Pekuah, 94 

Pekuah is Still Remembered by the 

Princess, 98 

The Princess Hears News of Pekuah, igo 
The Adventures of the Lady Pekuah, 102 
The Adventures of Pekuah Continued, 106 
The History of a Man of Learning, 112 


The Astronomer Discovers the Cause 
of His Uneasiness, . . . . 115 

The Astronomer Justifies PIis Account 
of Himself, . . . • . .116 

The Astronomer Leaves Imlac His Di- 
rections 1 18 


CONTENTS. 


V 


CHAPTER 

XLIV. The Dangerous Prevalence of Imagina- 
tion, . 

XLV. They Discourse with an Old Man, 

XLVI. The Princess and Pekuah Visit the As- 
tronomer, 

XLVII. The Prince Enters and Brings a New 

Topic, 

XLVIII. Imlac Discourses on the Nature of the 

Soul, 

XLIX. The Conclusion, in which Nothing is Con- 
cluded 


PAGE 

120 

122 

126 

132 

136 

141 



THE HISTORY OF RASSELAS. 


CHAPTER I. 

DESCRIPTION OF A PALACE IN A VALLEY. 

Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of 
fancy, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of 
hope ; who expect that age will perform the promises 
of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present day 
5 will be supplied by the morrow, — attend to the history 
of Rasselas, prince of Abyssinia. 

Rasselas was the fourth son of the mighty emperor 
in whose dominions the Father of Waters begins his 
course; whose bounty pours down the streams of 
io plenty, and scatters over half the world the harvests 
of Egypt. 

According to the custom which has descended from 
age to age among the monarchs of the torrid zone, he 
was confined in a private palace, with the other sons 
15 and daughters of Abyssinian royalty, till the order of 
succession should call him to the throne. 

The place which the wisdom or policy of antiquity 
had destined for the residence of the Abyssinian 
princes, was a spacious valley in the kingdom of 
20 Amhara, surrounded on every side by mountains, of 
which the summits overhang the middle part. The 


2 


JOHNSON. 


only passage by which it could be entered was a 
cavern that passed under a rock, of which it has long 
been disputed whether it was the work of nature or of 
human industry. The outlet of the cavern was con- 
cealed by a thick wood, and the mouth which opened 
into the valley was closed with gates of iron, forged 
by the artificers of ancient days, so massy that no man 
could, without the help of engines, open or shut them. 

From the mountains on every side rivulets de- 
scended that filled all the valley with verdure and 
fertility, and formed a lake in the middle, inhabited 
by fish of every species, and frequented by every fowl 
whom nature has taught to dip the wing in water. 
This lake discharged its superfluities by a stream, 
which entered a dark cleft of the mountain on the 
northern side, and fell with dreadful noise from preci- 
pice to precipice till it was heard no more. 

The sides of the mountains were covered with trees, 
the banks of the brooks were diversified with flowers; 
every blast shook spices from the rocks, and every 
month dropped fruits upon the ground. All animals 
that bite the grass or browse the shrub, whether wild 
or tame, wandered in this extensive circuit, secured 
from beasts of prey by the mountains which confined 
them. On one part were flocks and herds feeding in 
the pastures, on another all the beasts of chase frisking 
in the lawns; the sprightly kid was bounding on the 
rocks, the subtle monkey frolicking in the trees, and 
the solemn elephant reposing in the shade. All the 
diversities of the world were brought together, the 
blessings of nature were collected, and its evils 
extracted and excluded. 


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RASSELAS. 


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The valley, wide and fruitful, supplied its inhabit- 
ants with the necessaries of life, and all delights and 
superfluities were added at the annual visit which the 
emperor paid his children, when the iron gate was 
5 opened to the sound of music, and during eight days 
everyone that resided in the valley was required to 
propose whatever might contribute to make seclusion 
pleasant, to fill up the vacancies of attention, and 
lessen the tediousness of time. Every desire was 
io immediately granted. All the artificers of pleasure 
were called to gladden the festivity; the musicians 
exerted the power of, harmony, and the dancers 
showed their activity before the princes, in hope that 
they should pass their lives in this blissful captivity, 
15 to which those only were admitted whose performance 
was thought able to add novelty to luxury. Such was 
the appearance of security and delight which this 
retirement afforded, that they to whom it was new 
always desired that it might be perpetual; and as those 
20 on whom the iron gate had once closed were never 
suffered to return, the effect of longer experience 
could not be known. Thus every year produced new 
schemes of delight and new competitors for im- 
prisonment. 

25 The palace stood on an eminence, raised about 
thirty paces above the surface of the lake. It was 
divided into many squares or courts, built with 
greater or less magnificence according to the rank 
of those for whom they were designed. The roofs 
3 o were turned into arches of massy stone, joined with a 
cement that grew harder by time, and the building 
stood from century to century, deriding the solstitial 


4 JOHNSON. 

rains and equinoctial hurricanes, without need of 
reparation. 

This house, which was so large as to be fully known 
to none but some ancient officers, who successively 
inherited the secrets of the place, was built as if sus- 5 
picion herself had dictated the plan. To every room 
there was an open and secret passage; every square 
had a communication with the rest, either from the 
upper stories by private galleries, or by subterranean 
passages from the lower apartments. Many of the 10 
columns had unsuspected cavities, in which suc- 
cessive monarchs reposited their treasures. They 
then closed up the opening with marble, which was 
never to be removed but in the utmost exigencies of 
the kingdom, and recorded their accumulations in a 15 
book, which was itself concealed in a tower, not 
entered but by the emperor, attended by the prince 
who stood next in succession. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE DISCONTENT OF RASSELAS IN THE HAPPY 20 
VALLEY. 

Here the sons and daughters of Abyssinia lived only 
to know the soft vicissitudes of pleasure and repose, 
attended by all that were skilful to delight, and grati- 
fied with whatever the senses can enjoy. They 25 
wandered in gardens of fragrance, and slept in the 
fortresses of security. Every art was practised to 
make them pleased with their own condition. The 
sages who instructed them told them of nothing but 


RASSELAS. 


5 


the miseries of public life, and described all beyond 
the mountains as regions of calamity, where discord 
was always raging, and where man preyed upon man. 

To heighten their opinion of their own felicity, they 
5 were daily entertained with songs, the subject of which 
was the happy valley. Their appetites were excited 
by frequent enumerations of different enjoyments, and 
revelry and merriment was the business of every hour, 
from the dawn of morning to the close of even, 
io These methods were generally successful; few of 
the princes had ever wished to enlarge their bounds, 
but passed their lives in full conviction that they had 
all within their reach that art or nature could bestow, 
and pitied those whom fate had excluded from this 
15 seat of tranquillity, as the sport of chance and the 
slaves of misery. 

Thus they rose in the morning and lay down at 
night, pleased with each other and with themselves, 
all but Rasselas, who, in the twenty-sixth year of his 
20 age, began to withdraw himself from their pastimes 
and assemblies, and to delight in solitary walks and 
silent meditation. He often sat before tables covered 
with luxury, and forgot to taste the dainties that were 
placed before him; he rose abruptly in the midst of 
25 the song, and hastily retired beyond the sound of 
music. His attendants observed the change, and 
endeavored to renew his love of pleasure. He neg- 
lected their endeavors, repulsed their invitations, and 
spent day after day on the banks of rivulets sheltered 
• 30 with trees, where he sometimes listened to the birds 
in the branches, sometimes observed the fish playing 
in the stream, and anon cast his eyes upon the pastures 


6 


JOHNSON. 


and mountains filled with animals, of which some were 
biting the herbage, and some sleeping among the bushes. 

This singularity of his humor made him much ob- 
served. One of the sages, in whose conversation he 
had formerly delighted, followed him secretly, in hope 
of discovering the cause of his disquiet. Rasselas, 
who knew not that anyone was near him, having for 
some time fixed his eyes upon the goats that were 
browsing among the rocks, began to compare their con- 
dition with his own. 

“What,” said he, “makes the difference between 
man and all the rest of the animal creation? Every 
beast that strays beside me has the same corporal 
necessities with myself. He is hungry, and crops the 
grass, he is thirsty, and drinks the stream ; his thirst 
and hunger are appeased, he is satisfied, and sleeps; 
he rises again, and is hungry, he is again fed, and is 
at rest. I am hungry and thirsty, like him, but when 
thirst and hunger cease, I am not at rest; I am, like 
him, pained with want, but am not, like him, satisfied 
with fulness. The intermediate hours are tedious and 
gloomy ; I long again to be hungry that I may again 
quicken my attention. The birds peck the berries or 
the corn, and fly away to the groves, where they sit in 
seeming happiness on the branches, and waste their 
lives in tuning one unvaried series of sounds. I like- 
wise can call the lutanist and the singer, but the 
sounds that pleased me yesterday weary me to-day, and 
will grow yet more wearisome to-morrow. I can dis- 
cover within me no power of perception which is not 
glutted with its proper pleasure, yet I do not feel my- 
self delighted. Man has surely some latent sense for 


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RASSELAS. 


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which this place affords no gratification, or he has 
some desires distinct from sense, which must be 
satisfied before he can be happy.” 

After this he lifted up his head, and seeing the moon 
5 rising, walked towards the palace. As he passed 
through the fields, and saw the animals around him, 
“Ye,” said he, “are happy, and need not envy me 
that walk thus among you, burthened with myself; 
nor do I, ye gentle beings, envy your felicity, for it is 
io not the felicity of man. I have many distresses from 
which ye are free. I fear pain when I do not feel it; 
I sometimes shrink at evils recollected, and sometimes 
start at evils anticipated. Surely the equity of Provi- 
dence has balanced peculiar sufferings with peculiar 
15 enjoyments.” 

With observations like these the prince amused him- 
self as he returned, uttering them with a plaintive voice, 
yet with a look that discovered him to feel some com- 
placence in his own perspicacity, and to receive some 
20 solace of the miseries of life from consciousness of the 
delicacy with which he felt and the eloquence with 
which he bewailed them. He mingled cheerfully in 
the diversions of the evening, and all rejoiced to find 
that his heart was lightened. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE WANTS OF HIM THAT WANTS NOTHING. 

On the next day, his old instructor, imagining that 
he had now made himself acquainted with his disease 
of mind, was in hope of curing it by counsel, and 


8 


JOHNSON. 


officiously sought an opportunity of conference, which 
the prince, having long considered him as one whose 
intellects were exhausted, was not very willing to 
afford. “Why,” said he, “does this man thus intrude 
upon me; shall I be never suffered to forget those 5 
lectures, which pleased only while they were new, and 
to become new again must be forgotten?” He then 
Walked into the wood, and composed himself to his 
usual meditations, when, before his thoughts had taken 
any settled form, he perceived his pursuer at his side, io 
and was at first prompted by his impatience to go hastily 
away; but being unwilling to offend a man whom he 
had once reverenced and still loved, he invited him to 
sit down with him on the bank. 

The old man, thus encouraged, began to lament the 15 
change which had been lately observed in the prince, 
and to inquire why he so often retired from the pleas- 
ures of the palace to loneliness and silence. “I fly 
from pleasure,” said the prince, “because pleasure has 
ceased to please; I am lonely because I am miserable, 20 
and am unwilling to cloud with my presence the happi- 
ness of others.” “You, sir,” said the sage, “are the 
first who has complained of misery in the happy valley. 

I hope to convince you that your complaints have no 
real cause. You are herein full possession of all that 25 
the emperor of Abyssinia can bestow; here is neither 
labor to be endured nor danger to be dreaded, yet here 
is all that labor or danger can procure. Look round 
and tell me which of your wants is without supply; if 
you want nothing, how are you unhappy?” 30 

“That I want nothing,” said the prince, “or that I 
know not what I want, is the cause of my complaint. 


RA SSELA S. 


9 


If I had any known want, I should have a certain wish ; 
that wish would excite endeavor, and I should not 
then repine to see the sun move so slowly towards the 
western mountain, or lament when the day breaks, and 
5 sleep will no longer hide me from myself. When I 
see the kids and the lambs chasing one another, I 
fancy that I should be happy if I had something to 
pursue. But, possessing all that I can want, I find 
one day and one hour exactly like another, except 
10 that the latter is still more tedious than the former. 
Let your experience inform me how the day may now 
seem as short as in my childhood, while nature was yet 
fresh and every moment showed me what I never had 
observed before. I have already enjoyed too much; 
15 give me something to desire.” 

The old man was surprised at this new species of 
affliction and knew not what to reply, yet was unwilling 
to be silent. “Sir,” said he, “if you had seen the 
miseries of the world you would know how to value 
2 oyour present state.” “Now,” said the prince, “you 
have given me something to desire. I shall long to 
see the miseries of the world, since the sight of them 
is necessary to happiness." 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE PRINCE CONTINUES TO GRIEVE AND MUSE. 

At this time the sound of music proclaimed the 
hour of repast and the conversation was concluded. 
The old man went away sufficiently discontented to 
find that his reasonings had produced the only con- 


IO JOHNSON. 

elusion which they were intended to prevent. But in 
the decline of life shame and grief are of short dura- 
tion : whether it be that we bear easily what we have 
borne long; or that, finding ourselves in age less re- 
garded, we less regard others; or that we look with 
slight regard upon afflictions to which we know that 
the hand of death is about to put an end. 

The prince, whose views were extended to a wider 
space, could not speedily quiet his emotions. He 
had been before terrified at the length of life which 
nature promised him, because he considered that in a 
long time much must be endured; he now rejoiced 
in his youth, because in many years much might 
be done. 

This first beam of hope that had been ever darted 
into his mind, rekindled youth in his cheeks and 
doubled the lustre of his eyes. He was fired with the 
desire of doing something, though he knew not yet 
with distinctness either end or means. 

He was now no longer gloomy and unsocial; but 
considering himself as master of a secret stock of 
happiness which he could enjoy only by concealing 
it, he affected to be busy in all schemes of diversion, 
and endeavored to make others pleased with the state 
of which he himself was weary. But pleasures can 
never be so multiplied or continued as not to leave 
much of life unemployed; there were many hours, both 
of the night and day, which he could spend without 
suspicion in solitary thought. The load of life was 
much lightened. He went eagerly into the assemblies, 
because he supposed the frequency of his presence 
necessary to the success of his purposes; he retired 


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RA SSELA S. 


11 


gladly to privacy, because he had now a subject of 
thought. 

His chief amusement was to picture to himself that 
world which he had never seen; to place himself in 
5 various conditions; to be entangled in imaginary diffi- 
culties and to be engaged in wild adventures; but his 
benevolence always terminated his projects in the 
relief of distress, the detection of fraud, the defeat of 
oppression, and the diffusion of happiness. 
io Thus passed twenty months of the life of Rasselas. 
He busied himself so intensely in visionary bustle that 
he forgot his real solitude; and amidst hourly prepara- 
tions for the various incidents of human affairs, neg- 
lected to consider by what means he should mingle 
15 with mankind. 

One day, as he was sitting on a bank, he feigned to 
himself an orphan virgin robbed of her little portion by 
a treacherous lover, and crying after him for restitution 
and redress. So strongly was the image impressed 
20 upon his mind that he started up in the maid’s de- 
fence, and ran forward to seize the plunderer with all 
the eagerness of real pursuit. Fear naturally quickens 
the flight of guilt. Rasselas could not catch the fugi- 
tive with his utmost efforts; but resolving to weary by 
25 perseverance him whom he could not surpass in speed, 
he pressed on till the foot of the mountain stopped his 
course. 

Here he recollected himself and smiled at his own 
useless impetuosity. Then raising his eyes to the 
30 mountain, “This,” said he, “is the fatal obstacle that 
hinders at once the enjoyment of pleasure and the ex- 
ercise of virtue. How long is it that my hopes and 


JOHNSON. 


12 

wishes have flown beyond this boundary of my life, 
which yet I never have attempted to surmount?” 

Struck with this reflection, he sat down to muse, and 
remembered that since he first resolved to escape from 
his confinement, the sun had passed twice over him in 5 
his annual course. He now felt a degree of regret 
with which he had never been before acquainted. He 
considered how much might have been done in the 
time which had passed, and left nothing real behind 
it. He compared twenty months with the life of man. 10 
“In life,” said he, “is not to be counted the igno- 
rance of infancy or imbecility of age. We are long 
before we are able to think, and we soon cease from 
the power of acting. The true period of human exist- 
ence may be reasonably estimated at forty years, of 15 
which I have mused away the four and twentieth part. 
What I have lost was certain, for I have certainly 
possessed it; but of twenty months to come, who can 
assure me?” 

The consciousness of his own folly pierced him 20 
deeply, and he was long before he could be reconciled 
to himself. “The rest of my time,” said he, “has 
been lost by the crime or folly of my ancestors, and the 
absurd institutions of my country. I remember it with 
disgust, but without remorse; but the months that 25 
have passed since new light darted into my soul, since 
I formed a scheme of reasonable felicity, have been 
squandered by my own fault. I have lost that which 
can never be restored; I have seen the sun rise and set 
for twenty months, an idle gazer on the light of heaven. 30 
In this time the birds have left the nest of their 
mother, and committed themselves to the woods and 


KASSEL AS. 


*3 


to the skies ; the kid has forsaken the teat, and learned 
by degrees to climb the rocks in quest of independent 
sustenance. I only have made no advances, but am 
still helpless and ignorant. The moon, by more than 
5 twenty changes, admonished me of the flux of life; the 
stream that rolled before my feet upbraided my in- 
activity. I sat feasting on intellectual luxury, regard- 
less alike of the examples of the earth and the instruc- 
tions of the planets. Twenty months are passed ; who 
10 shall restore them ! ” 

These sorrowful meditations fastened upon his mind; 
he passed four months in resolving to lose no more 
time in idle resolves, and was awakened to more vigo- 
rous exertion by hearing a maid, who had broken a 
15 porcelain cup, remark that what cannot be repaired 
is not to be regretted. 

This was obvious; and Rasselas reproached himself 
that he had not discovered it, having not known, or 
not considered, how many useful hints are obtained by 
20 chance, and how often the mind, hurried by her own 
ardor to distant views, neglects the truths that lie open 
before her. He for a few hours regretted his regret, 
and from that time bent his whole mind upon the 
means of escaping from the valley of happiness. 


25 CHAPTER V. 

THE PRINCE MEDITATES HIS ESCAPE. 

He now found that it would be very difficult to effect 
that which it was very easy to suppose effected. When 
he looked round about him, he saw himself confined 


14 


JOHNSON. 


by the bars of nature, which had never yet been 
broken, and by the gate through which none that once 
had passed it were ever able to return. He was now 
impatient as an eagle in a grate. He passed week 
after week in clambering the mountains to see if there 
was any aperture which the bushes might conceal, but 
found all the summits inaccessible by their promi- 
nence. The iron gate he despaired to open, for it was 
not only secured with all the power of art, but was 
always watched by successive sentinels, and was, by 
its position, exposed to the perpetual observation of 
all the inhabitants. 

He then examined the cavern through which the 
waters of the lake were discharged; and, looking down 
at a time when the sun shone strongly upon its mouth, 
he discovered it to be full of broken rocks, which, 
though they permitted the stream to flow through many 
narrow passages, would stop any body of solid bulk. 
He returned discouraged and dejected; but having 
now known the blessing of hope, resolved never to 
despair. 

In these fruitless searches he spent ten months. 
The time, however, passed cheerfully away; in the 
morning he rose with new hope; in the evening ap- 
plauded his own diligence, and in the night slept sound 
after his fatigue. He met a thousand amusements 
which beguiled his labor and diversified his thoughts. 
He discerned the various instincts of animals and 
properties of plants, and found the place replete with 
wonders, of which he purposed to solace himself with 
the contemplation if he should never be able to ac- 
complish his flight, rejoicing that his endeavors, though 


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I? A SSELA S. 15 

yet unsuccessful, had supplied him with a source of 
inexhaustible inquiry. 

But his original curiosity was not yet abated; he 
resolved to obtain some knowledge of the ways of men. 
5 His wish still continued, but his hope grew less. He 
ceased to survey any longer the walls of his prison, 
and spared to search by new toils for interstices which 
he knew could not be found, yet determined to keep 
his design always in view, and lay hold on any expe- 
iodient that time should offer. 


CHAPTER VI. 

A DISSERTATION ON THE ART OF FLYING. 

Among the artists that had been allured into the 
happy valley, to labor for the accommodation and 
15 pleasure of its inhabitants, was a man eminent for his 
knowledge of the mechanic powers, who had contrived 
many engines both of use and recreation. By a wheel 
which the stream turned he forced the water into a 
tower, whence it was distributed to all the apartments 
20 of the palace. He erected a pavilion in the garden, 
around which he kept the air always cool by artificial 
showers. One of the groves, appropriated to the 
ladies, was ventilated by fans, to which the rivulet 
that ran through it gave a constant motion ; and in- 
25 struments of soft music were placed at proper distances, 
of which some played by the impulse of the wind, and 
some by the power of the stream. 

This artist was sometimes visited by Rasselas who 
was pleased with every kind of knowledge, imagining 


1 6 JOHNSON . 

that the time would come when all his acquisitions 
should be of use to him in the open world. He came 
one day to amuse himself in his usual manner, and 
found the master busy in building a sailing chariot. 
He saw that the design was practicable upon a level 
surface, and with expressions of great esteem solicited 
its completion. The workman was pleased to find 
himself so much regarded by the prince, and resolved 
to gain yet higher honors. ‘ ‘Sir, ’ ’ said he, ‘ ‘you have 
seen but a small part of what the mechanic sciences 
can perform. I have been long of opinion that, instead 
of the tardy conveyance of ships and chariots, man 
might use the swifter migration of wings; that the 
fields of air are open to knowledge and that only igno- 
rance and idleness need crawl upon the ground.” 

This hint rekindled the prince’s desire of passing the 
mountains; and having seen what the mechanist had 
already performed, he was willing to fancy that he 
could do more, yet resolved to inquire further before 
he suffered hope to afflict him by disappointment. 
4 ‘I am afraid,” said he to the artist, ‘‘that your imagi- 
nation prevails over your skill, and that you now tell 
me rather what you wish than what you know. Every 
animal has his element assigned him; the birds have 
the air, and man and beasts the earth.” “So,” replied 
the mechanist, ‘‘fishes have the water in which yet 
beasts can swim by nature and men by art. He that 
can swim needs not despair to fly; to swim is to fly in 
a grosser fluid, and to fly is to swim in a subtler. We 
are only to proportion our power of resistance to the 
different density of the matter through which we are 
to pass. You will be necessarily upborne by the air 


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RASSELAS. 


17 


if you can renew any impulse upon it faster than the 
air can recede from the pressure. ” 

“But the exercise of swimming,” said the prince, “is 
very laborious ; the strongest limbs are soon wearied. 
5 I am afraid the act of flying will be yet more violent; 
and wings will be of no great use unless we can fly 
further than we can swim.” 

“The labor of rising from the ground,” said the 
artist, “will be great, as we see it in the heavier domes- 
10 tic fowls; but as we mount higher the earth’s attrac- 
tion and the body’s gravity will be gradually diminished, 
till we shall arrive at a region where the man will float 
in the air without any tendency to fall; no care will 
then be necessary but to move forwards, which the 
15 gentlest impulse will effect. You, sir, whose curiosity 
is so extensive, will easily conceive with what pleasure 
a philosopher, furnished with wings and hovering in 
the sky, would see the earth and all its inhabitants 
rolling beneath him, and presenting to him successively 
20 by its diurnal motion all the countries within the same 
parallel. How must it amuse the pendent spectator 
to see the moving scene of land and ocean, cities and 
deserts; to survey with equal security the marts of 
trade and the fields of battle, mountains infested by 
25 barbarians, and fruitful regions gladdened by plenty 
and lulled by peace ! How easily shall we then trace 
the Nile through all his passage; pass over to distant 
regions, and examine the face of nature from one 
extremity of the earth to the other!” 

30 ‘All this,” said the prince, “is much to be desired, 
but I am afraid that no man will be able to breathe in 
these regions of speculation and tranquillity. I have 


i8 


JOHNSON. 


been told that respiration is difficult upon lofty moun- 
tains, yet from these precipices, though so high as to 
produce great tenuity of the air, it is very easy to fall; 
and I suspect that from any height where life can 
be supported, there may be danger of too quick 5 
descent.” 

“Nothing,” replied the artist, “will ever be 
attempted, if all possible objections must be first over- 
come. If you will favor my project, I will try the 
first flight at my own hazard. I have considered the 10 
structure of all volant animals, and find the folding 
continuity of the bat’s wings most easily accommo- 
dated to the human form. Upon this model I shall 
begin my task to-morrow, and in a year expect to 
tower into the air beyond the malice or pursuit of 15 
man. But I will work only on this condition, that the 
art shall not be divulged, and that you shall not 
require me to make wings for any but ourselves.” 

“Why,” said Rasselas, “should you envy others so 
great an advantage? All skill ought to be exerted for 20 
universal good; every man has owed much to others, 
and ought to repay the kindness that he has received.” 

“If men were all virtuous,” returned the artist, “I 
should with great alacrity teach them all to fly. But 
what would be the security of the good, if the bad 25 
could at pleasure invade them from the sky? Against 
an army sailing through the clouds neither walls, nor 
mountains, nor seas could afford any security. A 
flight of northern savages might hover in the wind, and 
light at once with irresistible violence upon the capital 30 
of a fruitful region, that was rolling under them. 
Even this valley, the retreat of princes, the abode of 


RA SSELA S. 


*9 


happiness, might be violated by the sudden descent of 
some of the naked nations that swarm on the coasts of 
the southern sea. ” 

The prince promised secrecy, and waited for the per- 
5 formance, not wholly hopeless of success. He visited 
the work from time to time, observed its progress, 
and remarked the ingenious contrivances to facilitate 
motion and unite levity with strength. The artist was 
every day more certain that he should leave vultures 
io and eagles behind him, and the contagion of his con- 
fidence seized upon the prince. 

In a year the wings were finished; and on a morning 
appointed the maker appeared, furnished for flight, on 
a little promontory. He waved his pinions a while to 
15 gather air, then leaped from his stand, and in an 
instant dropped into the lake. His wings, which were 
of no use in the air, sustained him in the water, and 
the prince drew him to land half dead with terror and 
vexation. 


20 CHAPTER VII. 

THE PRINCE FINDS A MAN OF LEARNING. 

The prince was not much afflicted by this disaster, 
having suffered himself to hope for a happier event, 
only because he had no other means of escape in view. 
25 He still persisted in his design to leave the happy 
valley by the first opportunity. 

His imagination was now at a stand; he had no pros- 
pect of entering into the world, and, notwithstanding 
all his endeavors to support himself, discontent by 
30 degrees preyed upon him, and he began again to lose 


20 


JOHNSON. 


his thoughts in sadness, when the rainy season, which 
in these countries is periodical, made it inconvenient 
to wander in the woods. 

The rain continued longer and with more violence 
than had been ever known ; the clouds broke on the 5 
surrounding mountains, and the torrents streamed into 
the plain on every side, till the cavern was too narrow 
to discharge the water. The lake overflowed its 
banks, and all the level of the valley was covered with 
the inundation. The eminence on which the palace 10 
was built, and some other spots of rising ground, were 
all that the eye could now discover. The herds and 
flocks left the pastures, and both the wild beasts and 
the tame retreated to the mountains. 

This inundation confined all the princes to domestic 15 
amusements, and the attention of Rasselas was par- 
ticularly seized by a poem which Imlac recited upon 
the various conditions of humanity. He commanded 
the poet to attend him in his apartment and recite his 
verses a second time; then entering into familiar talk, 20 
he thought himself happy in having found a man who 
knew the world so well, and could so skilfully paint 
the scenes of life. He asked a thousand questions 
about things to which, though common to all other 
mortals, his confinement from childhood had kept him 25 
a stranger. The poet pitied his ignorance, and loved 
his curiosity, and entertained him from day to day 
with novelty and instruction, so that the prince 
regretted the necessity of sleep, and longed till the 
morning should renew his pleasure. 30 

As they were sitting together, the prince commanded 
Imlac to relate his history, and to tell by what acci- 


RASSELAS. 


21 


dent he was forced, or by what motive induced, to 
close his life in the happy valley. As he was going to 
begin his narrative, Rasselas was called to a concert, 
and obliged to restrain his curiosity till the evening. 


5 CHAPTER VIII. 

THE HISTORY OF IMLAC. 

The close of the day is, in the regions of the torrid 
zone, the only season of diversion and entertainment, 
and it was therefore midnight before the music ceased 
ioand the princesses retired. Rasselas then called for 
his companion, and required him to begin the story of 
his life. 

“Sir,” said Imlac, “my history will not be long; 
the life that is devoted to knowledge passes silently 
15 away, and is very little diversified by events. To talk 
in public, to think in solitude, to read and to hear, to 
inquire and answer inquiries, is the business of a 
scholar. He wanders about the world without pomp 
or terror, and is neither known nor valued but by men 
20 like himself. 

“I was born in the kingdom of Goiama, at no great 
distance from the fountain of the Nile. My father 
was a wealthy merchant, who traded between the in- 
land countries of Afric and the ports of the Red Sea. 
25 He was honest, frugal, and diligent, but of mean sen- 
timents and narrow comprehension; he desired only 
to be rich, and to conceal his riches, lest he should be 
spoiled by the governors of the province.” 

“Surely,” said the prince, “my father must be 


22 


JOHNSON. 


negligent of his charge, if any man in his dominions 
dares take that which belongs to another. Does he 
not know that kings are accountable for injustice per- 
mitted as well as done? If I were emperor, not the 
meanest of my subjects should be oppressed with 5 
impunity. My blood boils when I am told that a mer- 
chant durst not enjoy his honest gain, for fear of los- 
ing by the rapacity of power. Name the governor 
who robbed the people, that I may declare his crimes 
to the emperor ! ” io 

“Sir,” said Imlac, “your ardor is the natural effect 
of virtue animated by youth; the time will come when 
you will acquit your father, and perhaps hear with 
less impatience of the governor. Oppression is, in the 
Abyssinian dominions, neither frequent nor tolerated; 15 
but no form of government has been yet discovered 
by which cruelty can be wholly prevented. Subordi- 
nation supposes power on one part and subjection on 
the other; and if power be in the hands of men, it will 
sometimes be abused. The vigilance of the supreme 20 
magistrate may do much, but much will still remain 
undone. He can never know all the crimes that are 
committed, and can seldom punish all that he knows.” 

“This,” said the prince, “I do not understand; 
but I had rather hear thee than dispute. Continue 25 
thy narration. ’ ’ 

“My father,” proceeded Imlac, “originally intended 
that I should have no other education than such as 
might qualify me for commerce; and discovering in 
me great strength of memory and quickness of 30 
apprehension, often declared his hope that I should 
be some time the richest man in Abyssinia.” 


RA SSELA S. 


2 3 


“Why,” said the prince, “did thy father desire the 
increase of his wealth, when it was already greater than 
he durst discover or enjoy? I am unwilling to doubt 
thy veracity, yet inconsistencies cannot both be true.” 
5 “Inconsistencies,” answered Imlac, “cannot both 
be right; but, imputed to man, they may both be true. 
Yet diversity is not inconsistency. My father might 
expect a time of greater security. However, some 
desire is necessary to keep life in motion, and he whose 
ioreal wants are supplied must admit those of fancy.” 

“This,” said the prince, “I can in some measure 
conceive. I repent that I interrupted thee.” 

“With this hope,” proceeded Imlac, “he sent 
me to school. But when I had once found the 
15 delight of knowledge, and felt the pleasure of intelli- 
gence and the pride of invention, I began silently 
' to despise riches, and determined to disappoint the 
purpose of my father, whose grossness of concep- 
tion raised my pity. I was twenty years old before 
20 his tenderness would expose me to the fatigue of travel, 
in which time I had been instructed, by successive 
masters, in all the literature of my native country. As 
every hour taught me something new, I lived in a con- 
tinual course of gratifications; but as I advanced to- 
25 wards manhood, I lost much of the reverence with 
which I had been used to look on my instructors, be- 
cause when the lesson was ended I did not find them 
wiser or better than common men. 

“At length my father resolved to initiate me incom- 
30 merce ; and, opening one of his subterranean treasu- 
ries, counted out ten thousand pieces of gold. ‘This, 
young man,’ said he, ‘is the stock with which you must 


24 


JOHNSON . 


negotiate. I began with less than the fifth part, and 
you see how diligence and parsimony have increased 
it. This is your own, to waste or to improve. If you 
squander it by negligence or caprice, you must wait 
for my death before you will be rich ; if in four years 
you double your stock, we will thenceforward let sub- 
ordination cease, and live together as friends and 
partners, for he shall always be equal with me who is 
equally skilled in the art of growing rich.’ 

“We laid our money upon camels, concealed in 
bales of cheap goods, and travelled to the shore of the 
Red Sea. When I cast my eye on the expanse of 
waters, my heart bounded like that of a prisoner 
escaped. 1 felt an unextinguishable curiosity kindle 
in my mind, and resolved to snatch this opportunity 
of seeing the manners of other nations, and of learn- 
ing sciences unknown in Abyssinia. 

“I remembered that my father had obliged me to 
the improvement of my stock not by a promise which 
I ought not to violate, but by a penalty which I was 
at liberty to incur; and therefore determined to gratify 
my predominant desire, and, by drinking at the foun- 
tains of knowledge, to quench the thirst of curiosity. 

“As I was supposed to trade without connection 
with my father, it was easy for me to become ac- 
quainted with the master of a ship, and procure a 
passage to some other country. I had no motives of 
choice to regulate my voyage; it was sufficient for me 
that, wherever I wandered, I should see a country 
which I had not seen before. I therefore entered a 
ship bound for Surat, having left a letter for my father 
declaring my intention.” 


5 

10 

15 

20 

25 

.30 


RA SSELA S. 


2 5 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE HISTORY OF IMLAC CONTINUED. 

“When I first entered upon the world of waters, and 
lost sight of land, I looked round about me with pleas- 
5 ing terror, and thinking my soul enlarged by the 
boundless prospect, imagined that I could gaze round 
for ever without satiety; but in a short time I grew 
weary of looking on barren uniformity, where I could 
only see again what I had already seen. I then de- 
io scended into the ship, and doubted for awhile whether 
all my future pleasures would not end, like this, in 
disgust and disappointment. ‘Yet surely,’ said I, 
‘the ocean and the land are very different. The only 
variety of water is rest and motion; but the earth has 
15 mountains and valleys, deserts and cities; it is in- 
habited by men of different customs and contrary 
opinions; and I may hope to find variety in life, though 
I should miss it in nature.’ 

“With this hope I quieted my mind, and amused 
20 myself during the voyage, sometimes by learning from 
the sailors the art of navigation, which I have never 
practised, and sometimes by forming schemes for my 
conduct in different situations, in not one of which I 
have been ever placed. 

25 “I was almost weary of my naval amusements when 
we landed safely at Surat. I secured my money and, 
purchasing some commodities for show, joined myself 
to a caravan that was passing into the inland country. 
My companions, for some reason or other, conjectur- 
30 ing that I was rich, and, by my inquiries and admira- 


2 6 


JOHNSON. 


tion, finding that I was ignorant, considered me as a 
novice whom they had a right to cheat, and who was 
to learn, at the usual expense, the art of fraud. They 
exposed me to the theft of servants and the exaction 
of officers, and saw me plundered upon false pretences, 
without any advantage to themselves but that of re- 
joicing in the superiority of their own knowledge.” 

“Stop a moment,” said the prince; “is there such 
depravity in man as that he should injure another with- 
out benefit to himself? I can easily conceive that all 
are pleased with superiority; but your ignorance was 
merely accidental, which, being neither your crime 
nor your folly, could afford them no reason to applaud 
themselves; and the knowledge which they had, and 
which you wanted, they might as effectually have 
shown by warning you as betraying you.” 

“Pride,” said Imlac, “is seldom delicate; it will 
please itself with very mean advantages, and envy 
feels not its own happiness but when it may be com- 
pared with the misery of others. They were my 
enemies because they thought me rich, and my op- 
pressors because they delighted to find me weak.” 

“Proceed,” said the prince; “I doubt not of the 
facts which you relate, but imagine that you impute 
them to mistaken motives.” 

‘ ‘In this company,” said Imlac, “I arrived at Agra, 
the capital of Indostan, the city in which the Great 
Mogul commonly resides. I applied myself to the 
language of the country, and in a few months was able 
to converse with the learned men, some of whom I 
found morose and reserved, and others easy and com- 
municative ; some were unwilling to teach another what 


5 

io 

15 

20 

25 

30 


RASSELAS. 


27 


they had with difficulty learned themselves, and some 
showed that the end of their studies was to gain the 
dignity of instructing. 

“To the tutor of the young princes I recommended 
5 myself so much that I was presented to the emperor 
as a man of uncommon knowledge. The emperor 
asked me many questions concerning my country and 
my travels, and though I cannot now recollect anything 
that he uttered above the power of a common man, he 
10 dismissed me astonished at his wisdom and enamored 
of his goodness. 

“My credit was now so high, that the merchants with 
whom I had travelled applied to me for recommenda- 
tions to the ladies of the court. I was surprised at 
15 their confidence of solicitation, and gently reproached 
them with their practices on the road. They heard 
me with cold indifference, and showed no tokens of 
shame or sorrow. 

“They then urged their request with the offer of a 
20 bribe ; but what I would not do for kindness I would 
not do for money, and refused them, not because they 
had injured me, but because I would not enable them 
to injure others, for I knew they would have made use of 
my credit to cheat those who should buy their wares. 
25 “Having resided at Agra till there was no more to 
be learned, I travelled into Persia, where I saw many 
remains of ancient magnificence and observed many 
new accommodations of life. The Persians are a 
nation eminently social, and their assemblies afforded 
30 me daily opportunities of remarking characters and 
manners, and of tracing human nature through all its 
variations. 


28 


JOHNSON. 


“From Persia I passed into Arabia, where I saw a 
nation at once pastoral and warlike, who live without 
any settled habitation; whose only wealth is their flocks 
and herds, and who have yet carried on through all 
ages an hereditary war with all mankind, though they 
neither covet nor envy their possessions.” 

CHAPTER X. 

IMLAC'S HISTORY CONTINUED. A DISSERTATION 
UPON POETRY. 

“Wherever I went I found that poetry was con- 
sidered as the highest learning, and regarded with a 
veneration somewhat approaching to that which man 
would pay to the angelic nature. And it yet fills me 
with wonder that, in almost all countries, the most 
ancient poets are considered as the best; whether it be 
that every other kind of knowledge is an acquisition 
gradually attained, and poetry is a gift conferred at 
once; or that the first poetry of every nation surprised 
them as a novelty, and retained the credit by consent 
which it received by accident at first; or whether the 
province of poetry is to describe nature and passion, 
which are always the same, and the first writers took 
possession of the most striking objects for description 
and the most probable occurrences for fiction, and left 
nothing to those that followed them, but transcription 
of the same events and new combinations of the same 
images. Whatever be the reason, it is commonly ob- 
served that the early writers are in possession of 
nature, and their followers of art; that the first excel 


5 

io 

15 

20 

25 


RA SSELA S. 


2 9 


in strength and invention, and the latter in elegance 
and refinement. 

“I was desirous to add my name to this illustrious 
fraternity. I read all the poets of Persia and Arabia, 
5 and was able to repeat by memory the volumes that 
are suspended in the mosque of Mecca. But I soon 
found that no man was ever great by imitation. My 
desire of excellence impelled me to transfer my atten- 
tion to nature and to life. Nature was to be my sub- 
ioject, and men to be my auditors. I could never de- 
scribe what I had not seen; I could not hope to move 
those with delight or terror, whose interests and 
opinions I did not understand. 

“Being now resolved to be a poet, I saw everything 
15 with a new purpose. My sphere of attention was 
suddenly magnified ; no kind of knowledge was to 
be overlooked. I ranged mountains and deserts for 
images and resemblances, and pictured upon my mind 
every tree of the forest and flower of the valley. I 
20 observed with equal care the crags of the rock and the 
pinnacles of the palace. Sometimes I wandered along 
the mazes of the rivulet, and sometimes watched the 
changes of the summer clouds. To a poet nothing 
can be useless. Whatever is beautiful and whatever 
25 is dreadful must be familiar to his imagination; he 
must be conversant with all that is awfully vast or 
elegantly little. The plants of the garden, the animals 
of the wood, the minerals of the earth, and meteors of 
the sky, must all concur to store his mind with inex- 
3ohaustible variety; for every idea is useful for the en- 
forcement or decoration of moral or religious truth, and 
he who knows most will have most power of diversify- 


3 © 


JOHNSON. 


ing his scenes, and of gratifying his reader with remote 
allusions and unexpected instruction. 

‘‘All the appearances of nature I was therefore care- 
ful to study, and every country which I have surveyed 
has contributed something to my poetical powers.” 5 

‘‘In so wide a survey,” said the prince, ‘‘you must 
surely have left much unobserved. I have lived till 
now within the circuit of these mountains, and yet 
cannot walk abroad without the sight of something 
which I had never beheld before, or never heeded.” 10 

‘‘The business of a poet,” said Imlac, ‘‘is to ex- 
amine, not the individual, but the species; to remark 
general properties and large appearances. He does 
not number the streaks of the tulip, or describe the 
different shades in the verdure of the forest. He is 15 
to exhibit in his portraits of nature such prominent 
and striking features as recall the original to every 
mind, and must neglect the minuter discriminations, 
which one may have remarked and another have 
neglected, for those characteristics which are alike 
obvious to vigilance and carelessness. 

‘‘But the knowledge of nature is only half the task 
of a poet ; he must be acquainted likewise with all the 
modes of life. His character requires that he estimate 
the happiness and misery of every condition, observe 25 
the power of all the passions in all their combinations, 
and trace the changes of the human mind, as they 
are modified by various institutions and accidental 
influences of climate or custom, from the sprightliness 
of infancy to the despondence of decrepitude. He 30 
must divest himself of the prejudices of his age or 
country; he must consider right and wrong in their 


RA SSELA S. 


31 


abstracted and invariable state; he must disregard 
present laws and opinions, and rise to general and 
transcendental truths, which will always be the same. 
He must, therefore, content himself with the slow 
5 progress of his name, contemn the applause of his own 
time, and commit his claims to the justice of posterity. 
He must write as the interpreter of nature and the 
legislator of mankind, and consider himself as pre- 
siding over the thoughts and manners of successive 
10 generations, as a being superior to time and place. 
His labor is not yet at an end; he must know many 
languages and many sciences, and, that his style may 
be worthy of his thoughts, must by incessant practice 
familiarize to himself every delicacy of speech and 
15 grace of harmony.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

IMLAC’S NARRATIVE CONTINUED. A HINT ON 
PILGRIMAGE. 

Imlac now felt the enthusiastic fit, and was pro- 
20 ceeding to aggrandize his own profession, when the 
prince cried out: “Enough! thou hast convinced me 
that no human being can ever be a poet. Proceed now 
with thy narration.” 

“To be a poet,” said Imlac, “is indeed very diffi- 
25 cult.” “So difficult,” returned the prince, “that I 
will at present hear no more of his labors. Tell me 
whither you went when you had seen Persia.” 

“From Persia,” said the poet, “I travelled through 
Syria, and for three years resided in Palestine, where 


32 


JOHNSON. 


I conversed with great numbers of the northern and 
western nations of Europe, the nations which are now 
in possession of all power and all knowledge, whose 
armies are irresistible, and whose fleets command the 
remotest parts of the globe. When I compared these 5 
men with the natives of our own kingdom and those 
that surround us, they appeared almost another order 
of beings. In their countries it is difficult to wish for 
anything that may not be obtained; a thousand arts, 
of which we never heard, are continually laboring for 10 
their convenience and pleasure, and whatever their 
own climate has denied them is supplied by their com- 
merce.” 

“By what means,” said the prince, “are the Euro- 
peans thus powerful? or why, since they can so easily 15 
visit Asia and Africa for trade or conquest, cannot the 
Asiatics and Africans invade their coasts, plant colo- 
nies in their ports, and give laws to their natural 
princes? The same wind that carries them back would 
bring us thither.” 20 

“They are more powerful, sir, than we,” answered 
Imlac, “because they are wiser; knowledge will always 
predominate over ignorance, as man governs the other 
animals. But why their knowledge is more than ours, 

I know not what reason can be given but the un search- 25 
able will of the Supreme Being.” 

“When,” said the prince with a sigh, “shall I be able 
to visit Palestine, and mingle with this mighty conflu- 
ence of nations? Till that happy moment shall arrive, 
let me fill up the time with such representations as thou 30 
canst give me. I am not ignorant of the motive that 
assembles such numbers in that place, and cannot but 


RA SSE LA S. 


33 


consider it as the centre of wisdom and piety, to which 
the best and wisest men of every land must be con- 
tinually resorting.” 

“There are some nations,” said Imlac, “that send 
5 few visitants to Palestine; for many numerous and 
learned sects in Europe concur to censure pilgrimage 
as superstitious, or deride it as ridiculous.” 

“You know,” said the prince, “how little my life 
has made me acquainted with diversity of opinions. It 
io will be too long to hear the arguments on both sides; 
you, that have considered them, tell me the result.” 

“Pilgrimage,” said Imlac, “like many other acts of 
piety, may be reasonable or superstitious' according 
to the principles upon which it is performed. Long 
15 journeys in search of truth are not commanded. 
Truth, such as is necessary to the regulation of life, 
is always found where it is honestly sought. Change 
of place is no natural cause of the increase of piety, 
for it inevitably produces dissipation of mind. Yet, 
20 since men go every day to view the places where great 
actions have been performed, and return with stronger 
impressions of the event, curiosity of the same kind 
may naturally dispose us to view that country whence 
our religion had its beginning; and I believe no man 
25 surveys those awful scenes without some confirmation 
of holy resolutions. That the Supreme Being may be 
more easily propitiated in one place than in another, 
is the dream of idle superstition, but that some place 
may operate upon our own minds in an uncommon 
30 manner, is an opinion which hourly experience will 
justify. He who supposes that his vices may be more 
successfully combated in Palestine, will perhaps find 


34 


JOHNSON. 


himself mistaken, yet he may go thither without folly; 
he who thinks they will be more freely pardoned, dis- 
honors at once his reason and religion.’ * 

“These,” said the prince, “are European distinc- 
tions. I will consider them another time. What have 5 
you found to be the effect of knowledge? Are those 
nations happier than we?” 

“There is so much infelicity,” said the poet, “in 
the world, that scarce any man has leisure from his 
own distresses to estimate the comparative happiness io 
of others. Knowledge is certainly one of the means 
of pleasure, as is confessed by the natural desire which 
every mind feels of increasing its ideas. Ignorance is 
mere privation, by which nothing can be produced ; 
it is a vacuity in which the soul sits motionless and 15 
torpid for want of attraction, and, without knowing 
why, we always rejoice when we learn, and grieve when 
we forget. I am therefore inclined to conclude, that 
if nothing counteracts the natural consequence of 
learning, we grow more happy as our minds take a 20 
wider range. 

“In enumerating the particular comforts of life, we 
shall find many advantages on the side of the Euro- 
peans. They cure wounds and diseases with which 
we languish and perish. We suffer inclemencies of 25 
weather which they can obviate. They have engines 
for the despatch of many laborious works, which we 
must perform by manual industry. There is such 
communication between distant places, that one friend 
can hardly be said to be absent from another. Their 30 
policy removes all public inconveniences ; they have 
roads cut through their mountains, and bridges laid 


KASSEL AS. 


35 


upon their rivers. And, if we descend to the priva- 
cies of life, their habitations are more commodious and 
their possessions are more secure.” 

“They are surely happy,” said the prince, “who 
5 have all these conveniences, of which I envy none so 
much as the facility with which separated friends inter- 
change their thoughts.” 

“The Europeans,” answered Imlac, “are less un- 
happy than we, but they are not happy. Human life 
io is everywhere a state in which much is to be endured, 
and little to be enjoyed.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE STORY OF IMLAC CONTINUED. 

“I am not yet willing,” said the prince, ‘‘to sup- 
15 pose that happiness is so parsimoniously distributed to 
mortals ; nor can believe but that, if I had the choice 
of life, I should be able to fill every day with pleasure. 
I would injure no man and should provoke no resent- 
ment; I would relieve every distress and should enjoy 
20 the benedictions of gratitude. I would choose my 
friends among the wise and my wife among the virtu- 
ous, and therefore should be in no danger from treach- 
ery or unkindness. My children should by my care be 
learned and pious, and would repay to my age what their 
25 childhood had received. What would dare to molest 
him who might call on every side to thousands enriched 
by his bounty or assisted by his power? And why 
should not life glide quietly away in the soft recipro- 
cation of protection and reverence? All this may be 


36 


JOHNSON. 


done without the help of European refinements, 
which appear ‘by their effects to be rather specious 
than useful. Let us leave them and pursue our 
journey. ” 

“From Palestine,” said Imlac, “I passed through 5 
many regions of Asia; in the more civilized kingdoms 
as a trader, and among the barbarians of the moun- 
tains as a pilgrim. At last I began to long for my 
native country, that I might repose after my travels 
and fatigues in the places where I had spent my earli- 10 
est years, and gladden my old companions with the 
recital of my adventures. Often did I figure to myself 
those with whom I had sported away the gay hours of 
dawning life, sitting round me in its evening, wonder- 
ing at my tales and listening to my counsels. jg 

“When this thought had taken possession of my 
mind, I considered every moment as wasted which did 
not bring me nearer to Abyssinia. I hastened into 
Egypt, and, notwithstanding my impatience, was de- 
tained ten months in the contemplation of its ancient 20 
magnificence, and in inquiries after the remains of its 
ancient learning. I found in Cairo a mixture of all 
nations, some brought thither by the love of knowl- 
edge, some by the hope of gain, and many by the de- 
sire of living after their own manner without observa- 2 5 
tion, and of lying hid in the obscurity of multitudes; 
for, in a city populous as Cairo, it is possible to obtain 
at the same time the gratifications of society and the 
secrecy of solitude. 

“From Cairo I travelled to Suez, and embarked 30 
on the Red Sea, passing along the coast till I arrived 
at the port from which I had departed twenty years 


RASSELAS. 37 

before. Here I joined myself to a caravan, and re- 
entered my native country. 

‘‘I now expected the caresses of my kinsmen and 
the congratulations of my friends, and was not with- 
5 out hope that my father, whatever value he had set 
upon riches, would own with gladness and pride a son 
who was able to add to the felicity and honor of the 
nation. But I was soon convinced that my thoughts 
were vain. My father had been dead fourteen years, 
io having divided his wealth among my brothers, who 
were removed to some other provinces. Of my com- 
panions, the greater part was in the grave ; of the rest, 
some could with difficulty remember me, and some 
considered me as one corrupted by foreign manners. 
15 “A man used to vicissitudes is not easily dejected. 
1 forgot, after a time, my disappointment, and endeav- 
ored to recommend myself to the nobles of the king- 
dom; they admitted me to their tables, heard my 
story, and dismissed me. I opened a school, and was 
20 prohibited to teach. I then resolved to sit down in 
the quiet of domestic life, and addressed a lady that 
was fond of my conversation, but rejected my suit 
because my father was a merchant. 

“Wearied at last with solicitation and repulses, I 
25 resolved to hide myself forever from the world, and 
depend no longer on the opinion or caprice of others. 
I waited for the time when the gate of the happy valley 
should open, that I might bid farewell to hope and 
fear. The day came; my performance was distin- 
3oguished with favor, and I resigned myself with joy to 
perpetual confinement.” 

“Hast thou here found happiness at last?” said 


38 


JOHNSON. 


Rasselas. “Tell me, without reserve; art thou con- 
tent with thy condition, or dost thou wish to be again 
wandering and inquiring? All the inhabitants of this 
valley celebrate their lot, and at the annual visit of 
the emperor invite others to partake of their felicity.” 5 
“Great prince,” said Imlac, “I shall speak the 
truth ; I know not one of all your attendants who 
does not lament the hour when he entered this retreat. 

I am less unhappy than the rest, because I have a 
mind replete with images which I can vary and com- 10 
bine at pleasure. I can amuse my solitude by the ren- 
ovation of the knowledge which begins to fade from 
my memory, and with the recollection of the accidents 
of my past life. Yet all this ends in the sorrowful 
consideration that my acquirements are now useless, 15 
and that none of my pleasures can be again enjoyed. 
The rest, whose minds have no impression but of the 
present moment, are either corroded by malignant 
passions or sit stupid in the gloom of perpetual 
vacancy.” 20 

“What passions can infest those,” said the prince, 
“who have no rivals? We are in a place where im- 
potence precludes malice, and where all envy is re- 
pressed by community of enjoyments.” 

“There may be community,” said Imlac, “of ma- 25 
terial possessions, but there can never be commu- 
nity of love or of esteem. It must happen that one 
will please more than another ; he that knows himself 
despised will always be envious, and still more envious 
and malevolent, if he is condemned to live in the 30 
presence of those who despise him. The invitations 
by which they allure others to a state which they feel 


RA SSELA S. 


39 


to be wretched, proceed from the natural malignity 
of hopeless misery. They are weary of themselves 
and of each other, and expect to find relief in new 
companions. They envy the liberty which their folly 
5 has forfeited, and would gladly see all mankind im- 
prisoned like themselves. 

“From this crime, however, I am wholly free. No 
man can say that he is wretched by my persuasion. I 
look with pity on the crowds who are annually solicit- 
io ing admission to captivity, and wish that it were lawful 
for me to warn them of their danger.” 

“My dear Imlac,” said the prince, “I will open to 
thee my whole heart, that I have long meditated an 
escape from the happy valley. I have examined the 
15 mountains on every side, but find myself insuperably 
barred. Teach me the way to break my prison ; thou 
shalt be the companion of my flight, the guide of my 
rambles, the partner of my fortune, and my sole 
director in the choice of life." 

20 “Sir,” answered the poet, “your escape will be dif- 
ficult, and perhaps you may soon repent your curi- 
osity. The world, which you figure to yourself smooth 
and quiet as the lake in the valley, you will find a 
sea foaming with tempests and boiling with whirlpools ; 
25 you will be sometimes overwhelmed by the waves of 
violence, and sometimes dashed against the rocks of 
treachery. Amidst wrongs and frauds, competitions 
and anxieties, you will wish a thousand times for these 
seats of quiet, and willingly quit hope to be free from 
30 fear.” 

“Do not seek to deter me from my purpose,” said 
the prince. “I am impatient to see what thou hast 


40 


JOHNSON . 


seen ; and since thou art thyself weary of the valley, it 
is evident that thy former state was better than this. 
Whatever be the consequence of my experiment, I 
am resolved to judge with mine own eyes of the various 
conditions of men, and then to make deliberately my 5 
choice of life. * ’ 

“I am afraid,” said Imlac, “you are hindered by 
stronger restraints than my persuasions ; yet, if your 
determination is fixed, I do not counsel you to despair. 
Few things are impossible to diligence and skill.” 10 


CHAPTER XIII. 

RASSELAS DISCOVERS THE MEANS OF ESCAPE. 

The prince now dismissed his favorite to rest, but 
the narrative of wonders and novelties filled his mind 
with perturbation. He revolved all that he had heard, 15 
and prepared innumerable questions for the morning. 

Much of his uneasiness was now removed. He had 
a friend to whom he could impart his thoughts, and 
whose experience could assist him in his designs. His 
heart was no longer condemned to swell with silent 20 
vexation. He thought that even the happy valley might 
be endured with such a companion, and that, if they 
could range the world together, he should have noth- 
ing further to desire. 

In a few days the water was discharged, and the 25 
ground dried. The prince and Imlac then walked out 
together, to converse without the notice of the rest. 
The prince, whose thoughts were always on the wing, 
as he passed by the gate said, with a countenance of 


RA SSELA S. 


41 


sorrow, “Why art thou so strong, and why is man so 
weak?” 

“Man is not weak,” answered his companion; 
“knowledge is more than equivalent to force. The 
5 master of mechanics laughs at strength. I can burst 
the gate, but cannot do it secretly. Some other 
expedient must be tried.” 

As they were walking on the side of the mountain 
they observed that the conies, which the rain had 
10 driven from their burrows, had taken shelter among 
the bushes, and formed holes behind them tending 
upwards in an oblique line. “It has been the opinion 
of antiquity,” said Imlac, “that human reason bor- 
rowed many arts from the instinct of animals; let us, 
15 therefore, not think ourselves degraded by learning 
from the cony. We may escape by piercing the 
mountain in the same direction. We will begin where 
the summit hangs over the middle part, and labor 
upward till we shall issue out beyond the promi- 
2onence.” 

The eyes of the prince, when he heard this proposal, 
sparkled with joy. The execution was easy and the 
success certain. 

No time was now lost. They hastened early in the 
25 morning to choose a place proper for their mine. 
They clambered with great fatigue among crags and 
brambles, and returned without having discovered any 
part that favored their design. The second and the 
third day were spent in the same manner, and with 
30 the same frustration; but on the fourth, they found a 
small cavern concealed by a thicket, where they 
resolved to make their experiment. 


42 


JOHNSON. 


Imlac procured instruments proper to hew stone 
and remove earth, and they fell to their work on the 
next day with more eagerness than vigor. They 
were presently exhausted by their efforts, and sat 
down to pant upon the grass. The prince, for a 5 
moment appeared to be discouraged. “Sir,” said his 
companion, “practice will enable us to continue our 
labor for a longer time. Mark, however, how far we 
have advanced, and you will find that our toil will 
some time have an end. Great works are performed 10 
not by strength, but perseverance; yonder palace was 
raised by single stones, yet you see its height and 
spaciousness. He that shall walk with vigor three 
hours a day, will pass in seven years a space equal to 
the circumference of the globe.” 15 

They returned to their labor day after day, and in a 
short time found a fissure in the rock, which enabled 
thejn to pass far with very little obstruction. This 
Rasselas considered as a good omen. “Do not dis- 
turb your mind,” said Imlac, “with other hopes or 20 
fears than reason may suggest; if you are pleased with 
prognostics of good, you will be terrified likewise with 
tokens of evil, and your whole life will be a prey to 
superstition. Whatever facilitates our work is more 
than an omen, it is a cause of success. This is one 25 
of those pleasing surprises which often happen to 
active resolution. Many things difficult to design 
prove easy to performance.” 


RA SSELA S. 


43 


CHAPTER XIV. 

RASSELAS AND IMLAC RECEIVE AN UNEXPECTED 
VISIT. 

They had now wrought their way to the middle, 
5 and solaced their labor with the approach of liberty, 
when the prince, coming down to refresh himself with 
air, found his sister Nekayah standing before the 
mouth of the cavity. He started, and stood confused, 
afraid to tell his design, and yet hopeless to conceal 
io it. A few moments determined him to repose on her 
fidelity, and secure her secrecy by a declaration with- 
out reserve. 

“Do not imagine,” said the princess, “that I came 
hither as a spy. I had often observed from my win- 
15 dow, that you and Imlac directed your walk every day 
towards the same point, but I did not suppose you had 
any better reason for the preference than a cooler 
shade or more fragrant bank, nor followed you with 
any other design than to partake of your conversation. 
20 Since, then, not suspicion, but fondness has detected 
you, let me not lose the advantage of my discovery. 
I am equally weary of confinement with yourself, and 
not less desirous of knowing what is done or suffered 
in the world. Permit me to fly with you from this 
25 tasteless tranquillity, which will yet grow more loath- 
some when you have left me. You may deny me to 
accompany you, but cannot hinder me from follow- 
ing.” 

The prince, who loved Nekayah above his other 
30 sisters, had no inclination to refuse her request, and 


44 


JOHNSON. 


grieved that he had lost an opportunity of showing 
his confidence by a voluntary communication. It was 
therefore agreed that she should leave the valley with 
them; and that in the meantime she should watch, lest 
any other straggler should, by chance or curiosity, fol- 5 
low them to the mountain. 

At length their labor was at an end. They saw light 
beyond the prominence, and, issuing to the top of the 
mountain, beheld the Nile, yet a narrow current, 
wandering beneath them. 10 

The prince looked round with rapture, anticipated 
all the pleasures of travel, and in thought was already 
transported beyond his father’s dominions. Imlac, 
though very joyful at his escape, had less expectation 
of pleasure in the world, which he had before tried and 15 
of which he had been weary. 

Rasselas was so much delighted with a wider hori- 
zon that he could not soon be persuaded to return 
into the valley. He informed his sister that the way 
was open, and that nothing now remained but to pre- 20 
pare for their departure. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS LEAVE THE VALLEY, 

AND SEE MANY WONDERS. 

The prince and princess had jewels sufficient to 25 
make them rich whenever they came into a place of 
commerce, which, by Imlac’ s direction, they hid in 
their clothes, and on the night of the next full moon 
all left the valley. The princess was followed only 


RASSELAS. 45 

by a single favorite, who did not know whither she 
was going. 

They clambered through the cavity, and began to 
go down on the other side. The princess and her 
5 maid turned their eyes towards every part, and seeing 
nothing to bound their prospect, considered themselves 
as in danger of being lost in a dreary vacuity. They 
stopped and trembled. “I am almost afraid,” said 
the princess, ‘ ‘to begin a journey of which I cannot 
10 perceive an end, and to venture into this immense 
plain, where I may be approached on every side by 
men whom I never saw.” The prince felt nearly the 
same emotions, though he thought it more manly to 
conceal them. 

15 Imlac smiled at their terrors, and encouraged them 
to proceed ; but the princess continued irresolute, till 
she had been imperceptibly drawn forward too far to 
return. 

In the morning they found some shepherds in the 
20 field, who set milk and fruits before them. The prin- 
cess wondered that she did not see a palace ready for 
her reception, and a table spread with delicacies; but 
being faint and hungry, she drank the milk and eat the 
fruits, and thought them of a higher flavor than the 
25 products of the valley. 

They travelled forward by easy journeys, being all 
unaccustomed to toil or difficulty, and knowing that, 
though they might be missed, they could not be pur- 
sued. In a few days they came into a more populous 
30 region, where Imlac was diverted with the admiration 
which his companions expressed at the diversity of 
manners, stations, and employments. 


4 6 


JOHNSON. 


Their dress was such as might not bring upon them 
the suspicion of having anything to conceal; yet the 
prince, wherever he came, expected to be obeyed, and 
the princess was frighted because those that came into 
her presence did not prostrate themselves before her. 5 
Imlac was forced to observe them with great vigilance, 
lest they should betray their rank by their unusual 
behavior, and detained them several weeks in the first 
village to accustom them to the sight of common 
mortals. 10 

By degrees the royal wanderers were taught to 
understand that they had for a time laid aside their 
dignity, and were to expect only such regard as liber- 
ality and courtesy could procure. And Imlac, having 
by many admonitions prepared them to endure the 15 
tumults of a port, and the ruggedness of the commer- 
cial race, brought them down to the sea-coast. 

The prince and his sister, to whom everything was 
new, were gratified equally at all places, and therefore 
remained for some months at the port without any 20 
inclination to pass further. Imlac was content with 
their stay, because he did not think it safe to expose 
them, unpractised in the world, to the hazards of a 
foreign country. 

At last he began to fear lest they should be dis- 25 
covered, and proposed to fix a day for their departure. 
They had no pretensions to judge for themselves, and 
referred the whole scheme to his direction. He there- 
fore took passage in a ship to Suez, and, when the time 
came, with great difficulty prevailed on the princess to 30 
enter the vessel. They had a quick and prosperous 
voyage, and from Suez travelled by land to Cairo. 


HA SSELA S. 


47 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THEY ENTER CAIRO, AND FIND EVERY MAN HAPPY. 

As they approached the city, which filled the 
strangers with astonishment, “This,” said Imlac to 
5 the prince, “is the place where travellers and mer- 
chants assemble from all the corners of the earth. 
You will here find men of every character and every 
occupation. Commerce is here honorable. I will act 
as a merchant, and you shall live as strangers who 
iohave no other end of travel than curiosity. It will 
soon be observed that we are rich. Our reputation 
will procure us access to all whom we shall desire to 
know; you will see all the conditions of humanity, 
and enable yourself at leisure to make your choice of 
IS life." 

They now entered the town, stunned by the noise 
and offended by the crowds. Instruction had not yet 
so prevailed over habit but that they wondered to see 
themselves pass undistinguished along the streets, and 
20 met by the lowest of the people without reverence 
or notice. The princess could not at first bear the 
thought of being levelled with the vulgar, and for 
some days continued in her chamber, where she was 
served by her favorite, as in the palace of the valley. 
25 Imlac, who understood traffic, sold part of the 
jewels the next day, and hired a house, which he 
adorned with such magnificence that he was immedi- 
ately considered as a merchant of great wealth. His 
politeness attracted many acquaintance, and his gener- 
3oosity made him courted by many dependents. His 


48 


JOHNSON. 


table was crowded by men of every nation, who all 
admired his knowledge, and solicited his favor. His 
companions, not being able to mix in the conversation, 
could make no discovery of their ignorance or sur- 
prise, and were gradually initiated in the world as 5 
they gained knowledge of the language. 

The prince had, by frequent lectures, been taught 
the use and nature of money; but the ladies could not 
for a long time comprehend what the merchants did 
with small pieces of gold and silver, or why things of 10 
so little use should be received as equivalent to the 
necessaries of life. 

They studied the language two years, while Imlac 
was preparing to set before them the various ranks 
and conditions of mankind. He grew acquainted with 15 
all who had anything uncommon in their fortune or 
conduct. He frequented the voluptuous and the 
frugal, the idle and the busy, the merchants and the 
men of learning. 

The prince being now able to converse with fluency, 20 
and having learned the caution necessary to be 
observed in his intercourse with strangers, began 
to accompany Imlac to places of resort, and to enter 
into all assemblies, that he might make his choice of 
life. 25 

For some time he thought choice needless, because 
all appeared to him equally happy. Wherever he went 
hemetgayety and kindness, and heard the song of joy 
or the laugh of carelessness. He began to believe 
that the world overflowed with universal plenty, and 30 
that nothing was withheld either from want or merit ; 
that every hand showered liberality and every heart 


RASSELAS. 49 

melted with benevolence: “And who then,” says he, 
“will be suffered to be wretched?” 

Imlac permitted the pleasing delusion, and was 
unwilling to crush the hope of inexperience, till one 
5 day, having sat awhile silent, “I know not,” said the 
prince, “what can be the reason that I am more 
unhappy than any of our friends. I see them per- 
petually and unalterably cheerful, but feel my own mind 
restless and uneasy. I am unsatisfied with those 
io pleasures which I seem most to court. I live in the 
crowds of jollity, not so much to enjoy company as to 
shun myself, and am only loud and merry to conceal 
my sadness.” 

“Every man,” said Imlac, “may, by examining his 
15 own mind, guess what passes in the minds of others. 
When you feel that your own gayety is counterfeit, 
it may justly lead you to suspect that of your com- 
panions not to be sincere. Envy is commonly 
reciprocal. We are long before we are convinced 
20 that happiness is never to be found, and each believes 
it possessed by others, to keep alive the hope of 
obtaining it for himself. In the assembly where you 
passed the last night, there appeared such sprightli- 
ness of air, and volatility of fancy, as might have 
25 suited beings of an higher order, formed to inhabit 
serener regions inaccessible to care or sorrow; yet, 
believe me, prince, there was not one who did not 
dread the moment when solitude should deliver him to 
the tyranny of reflection.” 

30 “This,” said the prince, “may be true of others 
since it is true of me ; yet, whatever be the general 
infelicity of man, one condition is more happy than 


50 


JOHNSON. 


another, and wisdom surely directs us to take the least 
evil in the choice of life." 

“The causes of good and evil,” answered Imlac, 
“are so various and uncertain, so often entangled with 
each other, so diversified by various relations, and so 5 
much subject to accidents which cannot be foreseen, 
that he who would fix his condition upon incontestable 
reasons of preference, must live and die inquiring 
and deliberating.” 

“But, surely,” said Rasselas, “the wise men, to 10 
whom we listen with reverence and wonder, chose that 
mode of life for themselves which they thought most 
likely to make them happy.” 

“Very few,” said the poet, “live by choice. Every 
man is placed in his present condition by causes which 15 
acted without his foresight, and with which he did not 
always willingly co-operate; and therefore you will 
rarely meet one who does not think the lot of his 
neighbor better than his own.” 

“I am pleased to think,” said the prince, “that my 20 
birth has given me at least one advantage over others, 
by enabling me to determine for myself. I have here 
the world before me. I will review it at leisure; 
surely happiness is somewhere to be found.” 


RA SSELA S. 


51 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE PRINCE ASSOCIATES WITH YOUNG MEN OF 
SPIRIT AND GAYETY. 

Rasselas rose next day, and resolved to begin his 
5 experiments upon life. “Youth,” cried he, “is the 
time of gladness; I will join myself to the young men 
whose only business is to gratify their desires, and 
whose time is all spent in a succession of enjoy- 
ments.” 

10 To such societies he was readily admitted, but a 
few days brought him back weary and disgusted. 
Their mirth was without images, their laughter with- 
out motive; their pleasures were gross and sensual, in 
which the mind had no part; their conduct was at 
15 once wild and mean. They laughed at order and at 
law, but the frown of power dejected and the eye of 
wisdom abashed them. 

The prince soon concluded that he should never 
be happy in a course of life of which he was ashamed. 
20 He thought it unsuitable to a reasonable being to act 
without a plan, and to be sad or cheerful only by 
chance. “Happiness,” said he, “must be something 
solid and permanent, without fear and without uncer- 
tainty.” 

25 But his young companions had gained so much of 
his regard by their frankness and courtesy, that he 
could not leave them without warning and remon- 
strance. “My friends,” said he, “I have seriously 
considered our manners and our prospects, and find 
30 that we have mistaken our own interest. The first 


5 2 


JOHNSON. 


years of man must make provision for the last. He 
that never thinks, never can be wise. Perpetual 
levity must end in ignorance; and intemperance, 
though it may fire the spirits for an hour, will make 
life short or miserable. Let us consider that youth is 5 
of no long duration, and that in maturer age, when the 
enchantments of fancy shall cease and phantoms of 
delight dance no more about us, we shall have no 
comforts but the esteem of wise men and the means of 
doing good. Let us therefore stop while to stop is in io 
our power. Let us live as men who are some time to 
grow old, and to whom it will be the most dreadful of 
all evils not to count their past years but by follies, 
and to be reminded of their former luxuriance of health 
only by the maladies which riot has produced.” 15 

They stared awhile in silence one upon another, and 
at last drove him away by a general chorus of con- 
tinued laughter. 

The consciousness that his sentiments were just and 
his intentions kind, was scarcely sufficient to support 20 
him against the horror of derision. But he recovered 
his tranquillity and pursued his search. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE PRINCE FINDS A WISE AND HAPPY MAN. 

As he was one day walking in the street, he saw a 25 
spacious building which all were, by the open doors, 
invited to enter. He followed the stream of people, 
and found it a hall or school of declamation, in which 
professors read lectures to their auditory. He fixed 


RASSELAS. 


53 


his eye upon a sage raised above the rest, who dis- 
coursed with great energy on the government of the 
passions. His look was venerable, his action graceful, 
his pronunciation clear, and his diction elegant. He 
5 showed with great strength of sentiment and variety 
of illustration, that human nature is degraded and 
debased when the lower faculties predominate over the 
higher; that when fancy, the parent of passion, usurps 
the dominion of the mind, nothing ensues but the 
io natural effect of unlawful government, perturbation, 
and confusion ; that she betrays the fortresses of the 
intellect to rebels, and excites her children to sedition 
against reason, their lawful sovereign. He compared 
reason to the sun, of which the light is constant, uni- 
15 form, and lasting; and fancy to a meteor, of bright 
but transitory lustre, irregular in its motion and delu- 
sive in its direction. 

He then communicated the various precepts given 
from time to time for the conquest of passion, and 
20 displayed the happiness of those who had obtained the 
important victory, after which man is no longer the 
slave of fear nor the fool of hope ; is no more ema- 
ciated by envy, inflamed by anger, emasculated by 
tenderness, or depressed by grief, but walks on calmly 
25 through the tumults or the privacies of life, as the sun 
pursues alike his course through the calm or the stormy 
sky. 

He enumerated many examples of heroes immov- 
able by pain or pleasure, who looked with indifference 
30 on those modes or accidents to which the vulgar give 
the names of good and evil. He exhorted his hearers 
to lay aside their prejudices, and arm themselves 


54 


JOHNSON. 


against the shafts of malice or misfortune, by invul- 
nerable patience; concluding that this state only was 
happiness, and that this happiness was in everyone’s 
power. 

Rasselas listened to him with the veneration due to 5 
the instructions of a superior being, and waiting for 
him at the door, humbly implored the liberty of visit- 
ing so great a master of true wisdom. The lecturer 
hesitated a moment, when Rasselas put a purse of gold 
into his hand, which he received with a mixture of joy 10 
and wonder. 

“I have found,” said the prince at his return to 
Imlac, “a man who can teach all that is necessary to 
be known ; who, from the unshaken throne of rational 
fortitude, looks down on the scenes of life changing 15 
beneath him. He speaks, and attention watches his 
lips. He reasons, and conviction closes his periods. 
This man shall be my future guide; I will learn his 
doctrines and imitate his life.” 

“Be not too hasty,” said Imlac, “to trust or to 20 
admire the teachers of morality: they discourse like 
angels, but they live like men.” 

Rasselas, who could not conceive how any man 
could reason so forcibly without feeling the cogency 
of his own arguments, paid his visit in a few days, and 25 
was denied admission. He had now learned the 
power of money, and made his way by a piece of gold 
to the inner apartment, where he found the philos- 
opher in a room half darkened, with his eyes misty 
and his face pale. “Sir,” said he, “you are come at 30 
a time when all human friendship is useless; what I 
suffer cannot be remedied, what I have lost cannot be 


RASSELAS. 


55 


supplied. My daughter, my only daughter, from 
whose tenderness I expected all the comforts of my 
age, died last night of a fever. My views, my pur- 
poses, my hopes are at an end; I am now a lonely 
5 being, disunited from society.” 

“Sir,” said the prince, “mortality is an event by 
which a wise man can never be surprised; we know 
that death is always near, and it should therefore 
always be expected.” “Young man,” answered the 
io philosopher, “you speak like one that has never felt 
the pangs of separation.” “Have you then forgot the 
precepts,” said Rasselas, “which you so powerfully 
enforced? Has wisdom no strength to arm the heart 
against calamity? Consider that external things are 
15 naturally variable, but truth and reason are always the 
same.” “What comfort,” said the mourner, “can 
truth and reason afford me? Of what effect are they 
now, but to tell me that my daughter will not be 
restored?” 

20 The prince, whose humanity would not suffer him 
to insult misery with reproof, went away, convinced 
of the emptiness of rhetorical sound, and the inefficacy 
of polished periods and studied sentences. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A GLIMPSE OF PASTORAL LIFE. 

He was still eager upon the same inquiry; and, 
having heard of a hermit that lived near the lowest 
cataract of the Nile, and filled the whole country with 
the fame of his sanctity, resolved to visit his retreat 


56 


JOHNSON. 


and enquire whether that felicity which public life 
could not afford was to be found in solitude, and 
whether a man whose age and virtue made him vener- 
able, could teach any peculiar art of shunning evils or 
enduring them. 5 

Imlac and the princess agreed to accompany him, 
and after the necessary preparations, they began their 
journey. Their way lay through fields, where shep- 
herds tended their flocks and the lambs were playing 
upon the pasture. “This,” said the poet, “is the life io 
which has been often celebrated for its innocence and 
quiet; let us pass the heat of the day among the 
shepherds’ tents, and know whether all our searches 
are not to terminate in pastoral simplicity.” 

The proposal pleased them, and they induced the 15 
shepherds, by small presents and familiar questions, 
to tell their opinion of their own state. They were 
so rude and ignorant, so little able to compare the 
good with the evil of the occupation, and so indis- 
tinct in their narratives and descriptions, that very 2 o 
little could be learned from them. But it was evident 
that their hearts were cankered with discontent; that 
they considered themselves as condemned to labor for 
the luxury of the rich, and looked up with stupid malevo- 
lence toward those that were placed above them. 25 
The princess pronounced with vehemence, that she 
would never suffer these envious savages to be her 
companions, and that she should not soon be desirous 
of seeing any more specimens of rustic happiness; but 
could not believe that all the accounts of primeval 30 
pleasures were fabulous, and was yet in doubt whether 
life had anything that could be justly preferred to the 


RA SSELA S. 


57 

placid gratifications of fields and woods. She hoped 
that the time would come when, with a few virtuous 
and elegant companions, she should gather flowers 
planted by her own hand, fondle the lambs of her own 
5 ewe, and listen without care, among brooks and 
breezes, to one of her maidens reading in the 
shade. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE DANGER OF PROSPERITY. 

10 On the next day they continued their journey till 
the heat compelled them to look round for shelter. At 
a small distance they saw a thick wood, which they no 
sooner entered than they perceived that they were 
approaching the habitations of men. The shrubs were 
15 diligently cut away to open walks where the shades 
were darkest; the boughs of opposite trees were arti- 
ficially interwoven ; seats of flowery turf were raised 
in vacant spaces, and a rivulet that wantoned along 
the side of a winding path had its banks sometimes 
20 opened into small basins, and its stream sometimes 
obstructed by little mounds of stone heaped together 
to increase its murmurs. 

They passed slowly through the wood, delighted 
with such unexpected accommodations, and enter- 
25 tained each other with conjecturing what, or who he 
could be that, in those rude and unfrequented regions, 
had leisure and art for such harmless luxury. 

As they advanced they heard the sound of music, 
and saw youths and virgins dancing in the grove ; and 
30 going still further, beheld a stately palace built upon a 


JOHNSON. 


5 * 

hill surrounded with woods. The laws of eastern 
hospitality allowed them to enter, and the master 
welcomed them like a man liberal and wealthy. 

He was skilful enough in appearances soon to dis- 
cern that they were no common guests, and spread his 5 
table with magnificence. The eloquence of Imlac 
caught his attention, and the lofty courtesy of the 
princess excited his respect. When they offered to 
depart, he entreated their stay, and was the next day 
still more unwilling to dismiss them than before. 10 
They were easily persuaded to stop, and civility grew 
up in time to freedom and confidence. 

The prince now saw all the domestics cheerful and 
all the face of nature smiling round the place, and 
could not forbear to hope that he should find here 15 
what he was seeking ; but when he was congratulating 
the master upon his possessions, he answered with a 
sigh, “My condition has indeed the appearance of 
happiness, but appearances are delusive. My pros- 
perity puts my life in danger; the Bassa of Egypt is 20 
my enemy, incensed only by my wealth and popularity. 

I have been hitherto protected against him by the 
princes of the country; but as the favor of the great 
is uncertain, I know not how soon my defenders may 
be persuaded to share the plunder with the Bassa. I 25 
have sent my treasures into a distant country, and 
upon the first alarm am prepared to follow them. 
Then will my enemies riot in my mansion, and enjoy 
the gardens which I have planted.” 

They all joined in lamenting his danger and depre- 30 
eating his exile; and the princess was so much dis- 
turbed with the tumult of grief and indignation that 


KASSEL AS. 


59 


she retired to her apartment. They continued with 
their kind inviter a few days longer, and then went 
forward to find the hermit. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

5 THE HAPPINESS OF SOLITUDE. THE HERMIT’S 
HISTORY. 

They came on the third day, by the direction of the 
peasants, to the hermit’s cell. It was a cavern in the 
side of a mountain, overshadowed with palm trees, at 
io such a distance from the cataract that nothing more 
was heard than a gentle uniform murmur, such as 
composed the mind to pensive meditation, especially 
when it was assisted by the wind whistling among the 
branches. The first rude essay of nature had been 
15 so much improved by human labor that the cave con- 
tained several apartments appropriated to different 
uses, and often afforded lodging to travellers whom 
darkness or tempests happened to overtake. 

The hermit sat on a bench at the door, to enjoy the 
20 coolness of the evening. On one side lay a book with 
pens and papers, on the other mechanical instru- 
ments of various kinds. As they approached him 
unregarded, the princess observed that he had not the 
countenance of a man that had found or could teach 
25 the way to happiness. 

They salufed him with great respect, which he 
repaid like a man not unaccustomed to the forms of 
courts. “My children,’’ said he, “if you have lost 
your way, you shall be willingly supplied with such 


6o 


JOHNSON. 


conveniences for the night as this cavern will afford. 

I have all that nature requires, and you will not expect 
delicacies in a hermit’s cell.” 

They thanked him, and entering, were pleased with 
the neatness and regularity of the place. The hermit 5 
set flesh and wine before them, though he fed only 
upon fruits and water. His discourse was cheerful 
without levity, and pious without enthusiasm. He 
soon gained the esteem of his guests, and the princess 
repented of her hasty censure. 10 

At last Imlac began thus: “I do not now wonder 
that your reputation is so far extended; we have heard 
at Cairo of your wisdom, and came hither to implore 
your direction for this young man and maiden in the 
choice of life.” 15 

‘‘To him that lives well,” answered the hermit, 
“every form of life is good; nor can I give any other 
rule for choice than to remove from all apparent evil.” 

“He will remove most certainly from evil,” said 
the prince, “who shall devote himself to that solitude 20 
which you have recommended by your example.” 

“I have indeed lived fifteen years in solitude,” said 
the hermit, “but have no desire that my example 
should gain any imitators. In my youth I professed 
arms, and was raised by degrees to the highest mili- 25 
tary rank. I have traversed wide countries at the 
head of my troops, and seen many battles and sieges. 

At last, being disgusted by the preferment of a younger 
officer, and finding my vigor beginning to decay, I 
resolved to close my life in peace, having found the 30 
world full of snares, discord, and misery. I had once 
escaped from the pursuit of the enemy by the shelter 


RASSELAS. 


6 


of this cavern, and therefore chose it for my final resi- 
dence. I employed artificers to form it into chambers, 
and stored it with all that I was likely to want. 

“For some time after my retreat I rejoiced like a 
5 tempest-beaten sailor at his entrance into the harbor, 
being delighted with the sudden change of the noise 
and hurry of war to stillness and repose. When the 
pleasure of novelty went away, I employed my hours 
in examining the plants which grow in the valley, and 
io the minerals which I collected from the rocks. But 
that inquiry is now grown tasteless and irksome. I 
have been for some time unsettled and distracted. 
My mind is disturbed with a thousand perplexities of 
doubt and vanities of imagination, which hourly pre- 
15 vail upon me, because I have no opportunities of relax- 
ation or diversion. I am sometimes ashamed to think 
that I could not secure myself from vice but by retir- 
ing from the practice of virtue, and begin to suspect 
that I was rather impelled by resentment, than led by 
20 devotion, into solitude. My fancy riots in scenes of 
folly, and I lament that I have lost so much and have 
gained so little. In solitude, if I escape the example 
of bad men, I want likewise the counsel and conversa- 
tion of the good. I have been long comparing the evils 
25 with the advantages of society, and resolved to return 
into the world to-morrow. The life of a solitary man 
will be certainly miserable, but not certainly devout.” 

They heard his resolution with surprise, but after a 
short pause offered to conduct him to Cairo. He dug 
30 up a considerable treasure which he had hid among 
the rocks, and accompanied them to the city, on 
which, as he approached it, he gazed with rapture. 


62 


JOHNSON. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE HAPPINESS OF A LIFE LED ACCORDING TO 
NATURE. 

Rasselas went often to an assembly of learned men, 
who met at stated times to unbend their minds and 5 
compare their opinions. Their manners were some- 
what coarse, but their conversation was instructive, 
and their disputations acute, though sometimes too 
violent, and often continued till neither controvertist 
remembered upon what question they began. Some 10 
faults were almost general among them; everyone was 
desirous to dictate to the rest, and everyone was 
pleased to hear the genius or knowledge of another 
depreciated. 

In this assembly Rasselas was relating his interview 15 
with the hermit, and the wonder with which he heard 
him censure a course of life which he had so deliber- 
ately chosen, and so laudably followed. The senti- 
ments of the hearers were various. Some were of 
opinion that the folly of his choice had been justly 20 
punished by condemnation to perpetual perseverance. 
One of the youngest among them, with great vehe- 
mence, pronounced him an hypocrite. Some talked 
of the right of society to the labor of individuals, and 
considered retirement as a desertion of duty. Others 25 
readily allowed that there was a time when the claims 
of the public were satisfied, and when a man might 
properly sequester himself, to review his life and 
purify his heart. 

One, who appeared more affected with the narrative 30 


RA SSELA S. 


63 


than the rest, thought it likely that the hermit would 
in a few years go back to his retreat, and perhaps, if 
shame did not restrain or death intercept him, return 
once more from his retreat into the world. “For 
5 the hope of happiness,” says he, “is so strongly im- 
pressed that the longest experience is not able to * 
efface it. Of the present state, whatever it be, we feel 
and are forced to confess the misery; yet when the 
same state is again at a distance, imagination paints it 
10 as desirable. But the time will surely come when 
desire will be no longer our torment, and no man shall 
be wretched but by his own fault.” 

“This,” said a philosopher who had heard him with 
tokens of great impatience, “is the present condition 
15 of a wise man. The time is already come, when none 
are wretched but by their own fault. Nothing is more 
idle than to inquire after happiness, which nature has 
kindly placed within our reach. The way to be happy 
is to live according to nature, in obedience to that 
20 universal and unalterable law with which every heart 
is orginally impressed ; which is not written on it by 
precept, but engraven by destiny, not instilled by edu- 
cation, but infused at our nativity. He that lives 
according to nature will suffer nothing from the 
25 delusions of hope or importunities of desire ; he will 
receive and reject with equability of temper, and act 
or suffer as the reason of things shall alternately pre- 
scribe. Other men may amuse themselves with subtle 
definitions or intricate ratiocination. Let them learn 
30 to be wise by easier means; let them observe the hind 
of the forest and the linnet of the grove; let them 
consider the life of animals, whose motions are regu- 


6 4 


JOHNSON. 


lated by instinct; they obey their guide, and are 
happy. Let us therefore, at length, cease to dispute, 
and learn to live; throw away the encumbrance of 
precepts, which they who utter them with so much 
pride and pomp do not understand, and carry with us 5 
this simple and intelligible maxim, that deviation from 
nature is deviation from happiness.” 

When he had spoken he looked round him with a 
placid air, and enjoyed the consciousness of his own 
beneficence. “Sir,” said the prince with great 10 
modesty, “as I, like all the rest of mankind, am 
desirous of felicity, my closest attention has been 
fixed upon your discourse. I doubt not the truth of 
a position which a man so learned has so confidently 
advanced; let me only know what it is to live accord- 15 
ing to nature.” 

“When I find young men so humble and so docile,” 
said the philosopher, “I can deny them no information 
which my studies have enabled me to afford. To live 
according to nature, is to act always with due regard 20 
to the fitness arising from the relations and qualities 
of causes and effects; to concur with the great and 
unchangeable scheme of universal felicity ; to co- 
operate with the general disposition and tendency of 
the present system of things.” 25 

The prince soon found that this was one of the sages 
whom he should understand less as he heard him 
longer. He therefore bowed and was silent; and the 
philosopher, supposing him satisfied and the rest van- 
quished, rose up and departed with the air of a man 30 
that had co-operated with the present system. 


RASSELAS. 


65 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE PRINCE AND HIS SISTER DIVIDE BETWEEN 
THEM THE WORK OF OBSERVATION. 

Rasselas returned home full of reflections, doubt- 
5 ful how to direct his future steps. Of the way to 
happiness he found the learned and simple equally 
ignorant ; but as he was yet young, he flattered himself 
that he had time remaining for more experiments and 
further inquiries. He communicated to Imlac his 
10 observations and his doubts, but was answered by him 
with new doubts and remarks that gave him no com- 
fort. He therefore discoursed more frequently and 
freely with his sister, who had yet the same hope with 
himself, and always assisted him to give some reason 
15 why, though he had been hitherto frustrated, he might 
succeed at last. 

“We have hitherto,” said she, “known but little of 
the world; we have never yet been either great or 
mean. In our own country, though we had royalty, 
20 we had no power, and in this we have not yet seen the 
private recesses of domestic peace. Imlac favors not 
oui search, lest we should in time find him mistaken. 
We will divide the task between us; you shall try 
what is to be found in the splendor of courts, and I 
25 will range the shades of humbler life. Perhaps com- 
mand and authority may be the supreme blessings, as 
they afford most opportunities of doing good; or per- 
haps what this world can give may be found in the 
modest habitations of middle fortune, too low for 
30 great designs, and too high for penury and distress.” 


66 


JOHNSON. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE PRINCE EXAMINES THE HAPPINESS OF HIGH 
STATIONS. 

Rasselas applauded the design, and appeared next 
day with a splendid retinue at the court of the Bassa. 5 
He was soon distinguished for his magnificence, and 
admitted, as a prince whose curiosity had brought him 
from distant countries, to an intimacy with the great 
officers and frequent conversation with the Bassa 
himself. 10 

He was at first inclined to believe, that the man must 
be pleased with his own condition whom all approached 
with reverence and heard with obedience, and who had 
the power to extend his edicts to a whole kingdom. 
“There can be no pleasure,” said he, “equal to that 15 
of feeling at once the joy of thousands all made happy 
by wise administration. Yet, since by the law of sub- 
ordination this sublime delight can be in one nation but 
the lot of one, it is surely reasonable to think there is 
some satisfaction more popular and accessible, and that 20 
millions can hardly be subjected to the will of a single 
man, only to fill his particular breast with incommun- 
icable content.” 

These thoughts were often in his mind, and he found 
no solution of the difficulty. But as piesents and 25 
civilities gained him more familiarity, he found that 
almost every man that stood high in employment hated 
all the rest, and was hated by them; and that their 
lives were a continual succession of plots and detec- 
tions, stratagems and escapes, faction and treachery. 30 


RASSELAS. 


67 


Many of those who surrounded the Bassa, were sent 
only to watch and report his conduct; every tongue 
was muttering censure, and every eye was searching 
for a fault. 

5 At last the letters of revocation arrived ; the Bassa 
was carried in chains to Constantinople, and his name 
was mentioned no more. 

“What are we now to think of the prerogatives of 
power?” said Rasselas to his sister; “is itwithout any 

10 efficacy to good, or is the subordinate degree only 
dangerous, and the supreme safe and glorious? Is the 
Sultan the only happy man in his dominions, or is the 
Sultan him^lf subject to the torments of suspicion and 
the dread of enemies?” 

I5 In a short time the second Bassa was deposed. 
The Sultan that had advanced him was murdered by 
the janissaries, and his successor had other views 
and different favorites. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

20 the princess pursues her inquiry with more 

DILIGENCE THAN SUCCESS. 

The princess in the meantime insinuated herself 
into many families; for there are few doors through 
which liberality, joined with good humor, cannot find 
25 its way. The daughters of many houses were airy and 
cheerful, but Nekayah had been too long accustomed 
to the conversation of Imlac and her brother to be 
much pleased with childish levity and prattle which 
had no meaning. She found their thoughts narrow, 


68 


JOHNSON. 


their wishes low, and their merriment often artificial. 
Their pleasures, poor as they were, could not be pre- 
served pure, but were embittered by petty competitions 
and worthless emulation. They were always jealous 
of the beauty of each other; of a quality to which 5 
solicitude can add nothing, and from which detraction 
can take nothing away. Many were in love with triflers 
like themselves, and many fancied that they were in 
love when in truth they were only idle. Their affec- 
tion was seldom fixed on sense or virtue, and there- 10 
fore seldom ended but in vexation. Their grief, how- 
ever, like their joy, was transient; everything floated 
in their mind unconnected with the past or future, so 
that one desire easily gave way to another, as a second 
stone,, cast into the water, effaces and confounds the 15 
circles of the first. 

With these girls she played as with inoffensive 
animals, and found them proud of her countenance 
and weary of her company. 

But her purpose was to examine more deeply, and 20 
her affability easily persuaded the hearts that were 
swelling with sorrow to discharge their secrets in her 
ear; and those whom hope flattered or prosperity 
delighted often courted her to partake their pleasures. 

The princess and her brother commonly met in the 25 
evening in a private summer-house on the bank of the 
Nile, and related to each other the occurrences of the 
day. As they were sitting together the princess cast 
her eyes upon the river that flowed before her. 
“Answer,” said she, “great Father of Waters, thou 30 
that rollest thy floods through eighty nations, to the 
invocations of the daughter of thy native king. Tell 


RASSELAS. 


69 


me if thou waterest, through all thy course, a single 
habitation from which thou dost not hear the murmurs 
of complaint?” 

‘‘You are then,” said Rasselas, ‘‘not more success- 
5 ful in private houses than I have been in courts.” 
‘‘I have, since the last partition of our provinces,” said 
the princess, ‘‘enabled myself to enter familiarly into 
many families, where there was the fairest show of 
prosperity and peace, and know not one house that is 
10 not haunted by some fiend that destroys its quiet. 

‘‘I did not seek ease among the poor, because I 
concluded that there it could not be found. But I 
saw many poor whom I had supposed to live in 
affluence. Poverty has, in large cities, very different 
15 appearances; it is often concealed in splendor and 
often in extravagance. It is the care of a very great 
part of mankind to conceal their indigence from the 
rest; they support themselves by temporary expe- 
dients, and every day is lost in contriving for the 
20 morrow. 

‘‘This, however, was an evil which, though fre- 
quent, I saw with less pain, because I could relieve it. 
Yet some have refused my bounties, more offended 
with my quickness to detect their wants, than pleased 
25 with my readiness to succor them; and others, whose 
exigencies compelled them to admit my kindness, have 
never been able to forgive their benefactress. Many, 
however, have been sincerely grateful without the 
ostentation of gratitude or the hope of other favors.” 


7o 


JOHNSON. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE PRINCESS CONTINUES HER REMARKS UPON 
PRIVATE LIFE. 

Nekayah, perceiving her brother’s attention fixed, 
proceeded in her narrative. 5 

“In families where there is or is not poverty, there 
is commonly discord. If a kingdom be, as Imlac tells 
us, a great family, -a family likewise is a little king- 
dom, torn with factions and exposed to revolutions. 

An unpractised observer expects the love of parents io 
and children to be constant and equal. But this kind- 
ness seldom continues beyond the years of infancy; 
in a short time the children become rivals to their 
parents. Benefits are allayed by reproaches, and 
gratitude debased by envy. 15 

“Parents and children seldom act in concert; each 
child endeavors to appropriate the esteem or fond- 
ness of the parents, and the parents, with yet less 
temptation, betray each other to their chidren. Thus, 
some place their confidence in the father, and some in 20 
the mother, and by degrees the house is filled with 
artifices and feuds. 

“The opinions of children and parents, of the 
young and the old, are naturally opposite, by the con- 
trary effects of hope and despondence, of expectation 25 
and experience, without crime or folly on either side. 
The colors of life in youth and age appear different, as 
the face of nature in spring and winter. And how 
can children credit the assertions of parents which their 
own eyes show them to be false? 30 


RASSELAS. 


71 


“Few parents act in such a manner as much to 
enforce their maxims by the credit of their lives. The 
old man trusts wholly to slow contrivance and gradual 
progression; the youth expects to force his way by 
5 genius, vigor, and precipitance. The old man pays 
regard to riches, and the youth reverences virtue. 
The old man deifies prudence; the youth commits 
himself to magnanimity and chance. The young man, 
who intends no ill, believes that none is intended, and 
10 therefore acts with openness and candor; but his 
father, having suffered the injuries of fraud, is impelled 
to suspect, and too often allured to practise it. Age 
looks with anger on the temerity of youth, and youth 
with contempt on the scrupulosity of age. Thus 
15 parents and children for the greatest part live on to 
love less and less; and if those whom nature has thus 
closely united are the torments of each other, where 
shall we look for tenderness and consolation?” 

“Surely,” said the prince, “you must have been 
20 unfortunate in your choice of acquaintance. I am 
unwilling to believe that the most tender of all relations 
is thus impeded in its effects by natural necessity.” 

“Domestic discord,” answered she, “is not inevi- 
tably and fatally necessary, but yet is not easily 
25 avoided. We seldom see that a whole family is 
virtuous. The good and the evil cannot well agree, 
and the evil can yet less agree with one another. 
Even the virtuous fall sometimes to variance, when 
their virtues are of different kinds and tending to 
30 extremes. In general, those parents have most rever- 
ence who most deserve it, for he that lives well cannot 
be despised. 


72 


JOHNSON. 


“Many other evils infest private life. Some are the 
slaves of servants whom they have trusted with their 
affairs. Some are kept in continual anxiety to the 
caprice of rich relations, whom they cannot please and 
dare not offend. Some husbands are imperious, and 
some wives perverse; and, as it is always more easy to 
do evil than good, though the wisdom or virtue of one 
can very rarely make many happy, the folly or vice of 
one may often make many miserable.” 

“If such be the general effect of marriage,” said 
the prince, “I shall for the future think it dangerous 
to connect my interest with that of another, lest I 
should be unhappy by my partner’s fault.” 

“I have met,” said the princess, “with many who 
live single for that reason, but I never found that their 
prudence ought to raise envy. They dream away their 
time without friendship, without fondness, and are 
driven to rid themselves of the day, for which they 
have no use, by childish amusements or vicious de- 
lights. They act as beings under the constant sense 
of some known inferiority that fills their minds with ran- 
cor, and their tongues with censure. They are peevish 
at home and malevolent abroad, and, as the outlaws of 
human nature, make it their business and their pleas- 
ure to disturb that society which debars them from 
its privileges. To live without feeling or exciting- 
sympathy, to be fortunate without adding to the feli- 
city of others, or afflicted without tasting the balm of 
pity, is a state more gloomy than solitude; it is not 
retreat but exclusion from mankind. Marriage has 
many pains, but celibacy has no pleasures.” 

“What then is to be done?” said Rasselas; “the 


5 

io 

i5 

20 

25 

30 


RASSELAS. 


73 


more we inquire the less we can resolve. Surely he is 
most likely to please himself that has no other inclina- 
tion to regard.” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

5 • DISQUISITION UPON GREATNESS. 

The conversation had a short pause. The prince, 
having considered his sister’s observations, told her 
that she had surveyed life with prejudice, and sup- 
posed misery where she did not find it. ‘‘Your narra- 
iotive,” says he, ‘‘throws yet a darker gloom upon the 
prospects of futurity. The predictions of. Imlac were 
but faint sketches of the evils painted by Nekayah. I 
have been lately convinced that quiet is not the 
daughter of grandeur or of power; that her presence 
15 is not to be bought by wealth nor enforced by con- 
quest. It is evident, that as any man acts in a wider 
compass he must be more exposed to opposition from 
enmity, or miscarriage from chance. Whoever has 
many to please or to govern must use the ministry of 
20 many agents, some of whom will be wicked and some 
ignorant; by some he will be misled and by others be- 
trayed. If he gratifies one he will offend another; 
those that are not favored will think themselves injured, 
and since favors can be conferred but upon few, the 
25 greater number will be always discontented.” 

‘‘The discontent,” said the princess, ‘‘which is thus 
unreasonable, I hope that I shall always have spirit to 
despise, and you power to repress.” 

‘‘Discontent,” answered Rasselas, “will not always 
30 be without reason under the most just or vigilant 


74 


JOHNSON . 


administration of public affairs. None, however at- 
tentive, can always discover that merit which indigence 
or faction may happen to obscure, and none, however 
powerful, can always reward it. Yet he that sees in- 
ferior desert advanced above him, will naturally impute 5 
that preference to partiality or caprice ; and indeed it 
can scarcely be hoped that any man, however magnani- 
mous by nature or exalted by condition, will be able to 
persist forever in fixed and inexorable justice of distri- 
bution. He will sometimes indulge his own affections 10 
and sometimes those of his favorites; he will permit 
some to please him who can never serve him ; he will 
discover in those whom he loves qualities which in 
reality they do not possess, and to those from whom 
he receives pleasure, he will in his turn endeavor to 15 
give it. Thus will recommendations sometimes pre- 
vail which were purchased by money, or by the more 
destructive bribery of flattery and servility. 

“He that has much to do will do something wrong, 
and of that wrong must suffer the consequences; and 20 
if it were possible that he should always act rightly, 
yet when such numbers are to judge of his conduct, the 
bad will censure and obstruct him by malevolence, and 
the good sometimes by mistake. 

“The highest stations cannot therefore hope to be 25 
the abodes of happiness, which I would willingly be- 
lieve to have fled from thrones and palaces to seats of 
humble privacy and placid obscurity. For what can 
hinder the satisfaction or intercept the expectations 
of him whose abilities are adequate to his employments, 30 
who sees with his own eyes the whole circuit of his 
influence, who chooses by his own knowledge all whom 


RASSELAS. 


75 


he trusts, and whom none are tempted to deceive by 
hope or fear? Surely he has nothing to do but to love 
and to be loved, to be virtuous and to be happy.” 

“Whether perfect happiness would be procured by 
5 perfect goodness,” said Nekayah, “this world will 
never afford an opportunity of deciding. But this, at 
least, may be maintained, that we do not always find 
visible happiness in proportion to visible virtue. All 
natural and almost all political evils are incident 
io alike to the bad and good; they are confounded in 
the misery of a famine, and not much distinguished in 
the fury of a faction ; they sink together in a tempest 
and are driven together from their country by in- 
vaders. All that virtue can afford is quietness of con- 
15 science, a steady prospect of a happier state ; this may 
enable us to endure calamity with patience, but re- 
member that patience must suppose pain.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

RASSELAS AND NEKAYAH CONTINUE THEIR 
20 CONVERSATION. 

“Dear princess,” said Rasselas, “you fall into the 
common errors of exaggeratory declamation, by pro- 
ducing in a familiar disquisition examples of national 
calamities, and scenes of extensive misery which are 
25 found in books rather than in the world, and which, 
as they are horrid, are ordained to be rare. Let us 
not imagine evils which we do not feel, nor injure life 
by misrepresentations. I cannot bear that querulous 
eloquence which threatens every city with a siege like 


7 6 


JOHNSON . 


that of Jerusalem, that makes famine attend on every 
flight of locusts, and suspends pestilence on the wing 
of every blast that issues from the south. 

“On necessary and inevitable evils which overwhelm 
kingdoms at once, all disputation is vain; when they 5 
happen they must be endured. But it is evident that 
these bursts of universal distress are more dreaded 
than felt; thousands and ten thousands flourish in 
youth and wither in age, without the knowledge of any 
other than domestic evils, and share the same pleasures 10 
and vexations, whether their kings are mild or cruel, 
whether the armies of their country pursue their 
enemies or retreat before them. While courts are 
disturbed with intestine competitions, and ambassadors 
are negotiating in foreign countries, the smith still 15 
plies his anvil and the husbandman drives his plow 
forward ; the necessaries of life are required and ob- 
tained, and the successive business of the seasons 
continues to make its wonted revolutions. 

“Let us cease to consider what perhaps may never 20 
happen, and what, when it shall happen, will laugh at 
human speculation. We will not endeavor to modify 
the motions of the elements or to fix the destiny of 
kingdoms. It is our business to consider what beings 
like us may perform, each laboring for his own happi- 25 
ness by promoting within his circle, however narrow, 
the happiness of others. 

“Marriage is evidently the dictate of nature; men 
and women were made to be companions of each 
other, and therefore I cannot be persuaded but that 30 
marriage is one of the means of happiness.” 

“I know not,” said the princess, “whether marriage 


RA SSELA S. 


77 


be more than one of the innumerable modes of human 
misery. When I see and reckon the various forms of 
connubial infelicity, the unexpected causes of lasting 
discord, the diversities of temper, the oppositions of 
5 opinion, the rude collisions of contrary desire where 
both are urged by violent impulses, the obstinate con- 
tests of disagreeing virtues where both are supported 
by consciousness of good intention, I am sometimes 
disposed to think, with the severer casuists of most 
io nations, that marriage is rather permitted than ap- 
proved, and that none, but by the instigation of a 
passion too much indulged, entangle themselves with 
indissoluble compacts.” 

“You seem to forget,” replied Rasselas, “that you 
15 have, even now, represented celibacy as less happy 
than marriage. Both conditions may be bad, but they 
cannot both be worst. Thus it happens, when wrong 
opinions are entertained, that they mutually destroy 
each other and leave the mind open to truth.” 

20 “I did not expect,” answered the princess, “to 
hear that imputed to falsehood which is the conse- 
quence only of frailty. To the mind, as to the eye, it 
is difficult to compare with exactness objects vast in 
their extent and various in their parts. Where we see 
25 or conceive the whole at once, we readily note the dis- 
criminations and decide the preference; but of two sys- 
tems, of which neither can be surveyed by any human 
being in its full compass of magnitude and multiplicity 
of complication, where is the wonder that, judging of 
30 the whole by parts, I am affected by one or the other 
as either presses on my memory or fancy? We differ 
from ourselves, just as we differ from each other, when 


78 


JOHNSON. 


we see only part of the question, as in the multifarious 
relations of politics and morality ; but when we per- 
ceive the whole at once, as in numerical computations, 
all agree in one judgment, and none ever varies his 
opinion.” 5 

“Let us not add,” said the prince, “to the other 
evils of life the bitterness of controversy, nor endeavor 
to vie with each other in subtleties of argument. We 
are employed in a search, of which both are equally to 
enjoy the success or suffer by the miscarriage; it is io 
therefore fit that we assist each other. You surely 
conclude too hastily from the infelicity of marriage 
against its institution. Will not the misery of life 
prove equally that life cannot be the gift of heaven? 
The world must be peopled by marriage or peopled 15 
without it.” 

“How the world is to be peopled,” returned Neka- 
yah, “is not my care, and needs not be yours. I see 
no danger that the present generation should omit to 
leave successors behind them; we are not now inquir- 20 
ing for the world, but for ourselves.” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE DEBATE ON MARRIAGE CONTINUED. 

“The good of the whole,” says Rasselas, “is the 
same with the good of all its parts. If marriage be 25 
best for mankind, it must be evidently best for indivi- 
duals, or a permanent and necessary duty must be the 
cause of evil, and some must be inevitably sacrificed 
to the convenience of others. In the estimate which 


RASSELAS. 


79 


you have made of the two states, it appears that the 
incommodities of a single life are in a great measure 
necessary and certain, but those of the conjugal state 
accidental and avoidable. 

5 “I cannot forbear to flatter myself, that prudence and 
benevolence will make marriage happy. The general 
folly of mankind is the cause of general complaint. 
What can be expected but disappointment and repent- 
ance from a choice made in the immaturity of youth, 
ioin the ardor of desire, without judgment, without fore- 
sight, without inquiry after conformity of opinions, 
similarity of manners, rectitude of judgment, or purity 
of sentiment? 

“Such is the common process of marriage. A 
15 youth and maiden meeting by chance or brought to- 
gether by artifice, exchange glances, reciprocate civili- 
ties, go home and dream of one another. Having 
little to divert attention or diversify thought, they find 
themselves uneasy when they are apart, and therefore 
20 conclude that they shall be happy together. They 
marry, and discover what nothing but voluntary blind- 
ness had before concealed; they wear out life in 
altercations, and charge nature with cruelty. 

“From those early marriages proceeds likewise the 
25 rivalry of parents and children. The son is eager to 
enjoy the world before the father is willing to forsake 
it, and there is hardly room at once for two gener- 
ations. The daughter begins to bloom before the 
mother can be content to fade, and neither can forbear 
30 to wish for the absence of the other. 

“Surely all these evils may be avoided by that de- 
liberation and delay which prudence prescribes to 


8o 


JOHNSON. 


irrevocable choice. In the variety and jollity of youth- 
ful pleasures, life may be well enough supported with- 
out the help of a partner. Longer time will increase 
experience, and wider views will allow better oppor- 
tunities of inquiry and selection. One advantage at 5 
least will be certain ; the parents will be visibly older 
than their children.” 

“What reason cannot collect,” said Nekayah, ‘‘and 
what experiment has not yet taught, can be known 
only from the report of others. I have been told that 10 
late marriages are not eminently happy. This is a ques- 
tion too important to be neglected, and I have often 
proposed it to those whose accuracy of remark, and 
comprehensiveness of knowledge, made their suffrages 
worthy of regard. They have generally determined, 15 
that it is dangerous for a man and woman to suspend 
their fate upon each other at a time when opinions are 
fixed and habits are established ; when friendships 
have been contracted on both sides, when life has 
been planned into method, and the mind has long en- 20 
joyed the contemplation of its own prospects. 

‘‘It is scarcely possible that two, travelling through 
the world under the conduct of chance, should have 
been both directed to the same path, and it will not 
often happen that either will quit the track which cus-25 
tom has made pleasing. When the desultory levity of 
youth has settled into regularity, it is soon succeeded 
by pride ashamed to yield, or obstinacy delighting to 
contend. And even though mutual esteem produces 
mutual desire to please, time itself, as it modifies un- 30 
changeably the external mien, determines likewise the 
direction of the passions and gives an inflexible rigid- 


RASSELAS . 


8l 


ity to the manners. Long customs are not easily 
broken; he that attempts to change the course of his 
own life very often labors in vain, and how shall we do 
that for others which we are seldom able to do for 
5 ourselves?” 

“But surely,” interposed the prince, “you suppose 
the chief motive of choice forgotten or neglected. 
Whenever I shall seek a wife it shall be my first ques- 
tion whether she be willing to be led by reason.” 
io “Thus it is,” said Nekayah, “that philosophers are 
deceived. There are a thousand familiar disputes 
which reason never can decide; questions that elude 
investigation and make logic ridiculous; cases where 
something must be done and where little can be said. 
15 Consider the state of mankind, and inquire how few 
can be supposed to act upon any occasions, whether 
small or great, with all the reasons of action present 
to their minds. Wretched would be the pair, above all 
names of wretchedness, who should be doomed to ad- 
20 just by reason every morning all the minute detail of 
a domestic day. 

“Those who marry at an advanced age will probably 
escape the encroachments of their children, but in 
diminution of this advantage they will be likely to 
25 leave them ignorant and helpless to a guardian’s 
mercy; or if that should not happen, they must at 
least go out of the world before they see those whom 
they love best either wise or great. 

“From their children, if they have less to fear, they 
30 have less also to hope, and they lose without equiva- 
lent the joys of early love, and the convenience of 
uniting with manners pliant and minds susceptible of 


82 


JOHNSON. 


new impressions, which might wear away their dissim- 
ilitudes by long cohabitation, as soft bodies by con- 
tinual attrition conform their surfaces to each other. 

“I believe it will be found that those who marry late 
are best pleased with their children, and those who 5 
marry early with their partners.” 

‘‘The union of these two affections,” said Rasselas, 
‘‘would produce all that could be wished. Perhaps 
there is a time when marriage might unite them; a 
time neither too early for the father nor too late for 10 
the husband.” 

‘‘Every hour,” answered the princess, ‘‘confirms my 
prejudice in favor of the position so often uttered by 
the mouth of Imlac, that nature sets her gifts on the 
right hand and on the left. Those conditions which 15 
flatter hope and attract desire are so constituted, that 
as we approach one we recede from another. There 
are goods so opposed that we cannot seize both, but by 
too much prudence may pass between them at too 
great a distance to reach either. This is often the 20 
fate of long consideration; he does nothing who en- 
deavors to do more than is allowed to humanity. 
Flatter not yourself with contrarieties of pleasure. 

Of the blessings set before you, make your choice and 
be content. No man can taste the fruits of autumn 25 
while he is delighting his scent with the flowers of 
the spring; no man can at the same time fill his cup 
from the source and from the mouth of the Nile.” 


RA SSELAS. 


83 


CHAPTER XXX. 

IMLAC ENTERS, AND CHANGES THE CONVERSATION. 

Here Imlac entered, and interrupted them. His 
look was clouded with thought. “Imlac,” said Ras- 
5 selas, “I have been taking from the princess the dismal 
history of private life, and am almost discouraged from 
further search, 

‘Tt seems to me,” said Imlac, “that while you are 
making the choice of life you neglect to live. You 
10 wander about a single city, which, however large and 
diversified, can now afford few novelties, and forget that 
you are in a country famous among the earliest monar- 
chies for the power and wisdom of its inhabitants ; a 
country where the sciences first dawned that illuminate 
15 the world, and beyond which the arts cannot be traced 
of civil society or domestic life. 

“The old Egyptians have left behind them monu- 
ments of industry and power before which all Euro- 
pean magnificence is confessed to fade away. The 
20 ruins of their architecture are the schools of modern 
builders, and from the wonders which time has spared 
we may conjecture, though uncertainly, what it has 
destroyed.’* 

“My curiosity,” said Rasselas, “does not very 
25 strongly lead me to survey piles of stone or mounds of 
earth ; my business is with man. I came hither not 
to measure fragments of temples or trace choked 
aqueducts, but to look upon the various scenes of the 
present world.” 

“The things that are now before us,” said the 


30 


8 4 


JOHNSON. 


princess, “necessarily require attention and sufficiently 
deserve it. What have I to do with the heroes or the 
monuments of ancient times? with times which never 
can return, and heroes whose form of life was different 
from all that the present condition of mankind requires 
or allows?’ * 

“To know anything,” returned the poet, “we must 
know its effects. T o see men, we must see their works, 
that we may learn what reason has dictated, or passion 
has incited, and find what are the most powerful 
motives of action. To judge rightly of the present, we 
must oppose it to the past ; for all judgment is com- 
parative, and of the future nothing can be known. 
The truth is that no mind is much employed upon the 
present; recollection and anticipation fill up almost 
all our moments. Our passions are joy and grief, 
love and hatred, hope and fear. Of joy and grief the 
past is the object, and the future, of hope and fear; 
even love and hatred respect the past, for the cause 
must have been before the effect. 

“The present state of things is the consequence of 
the former, and it is natural to inquire what were the 
sources of the good that we enjoy, or of the evil that 
we suffer. If we act only for ourselves, to neglect the 
study of history is not prudent; if we are entrusted 
with the care of others, it is not just. Ignorance, when 
it is voluntary, is criminal; and he may properly be 
charged with evil, who refused to learn how he might 
prevent it. 

“There is no part of history so generally useful as 
that which relates the progress of the human mind, 
the gradual improvement of reason, the successive 


5 

io 

15 

20 

25 

30 


RA SSELA S. 


85 


advances of science, the vicissitudes of learning and 
ignorance, which are the light and darkness of think- 
ing beings, the extinction and resuscitation of arts, and 
all the revolutions of the intellectual world. If ac- 
5 counts of battles and invasions are peculiarly the busi- 
ness of princes, the useful or elegant arts are not to 
be neglected; those who have kingdoms to govern 
have understandings to cultivate. 

“Example is always more efficacious than precept. 
10 A soldier is formed in war, and a painter must copy 
pictures. In this, contemplative life has the advan- 
tage; great actions are seldom seen, but the labors of 
art are always at hand for those who desire to know 
what art has been able to perform. 

15 “When the eye or the imagination is struck with 
any uncommon work, the next transition of an active 
mind is to the means by which it was performed. 
Here begins the true use of such contemplation ; we 
enlarge our comprehension by new ideas, and perhaps 
20 recover some art lost to mankind, or learn what is less 
perfectly known in our own country. At least we 
compare our own with former times, and either rejoice 
at our improvements, or, what is the first motion to- 
wards good, discover our defects.” 

25 “I am willing,” said the prince, “to see all that can 
deserve my search.” “And I,” said the princess, 
“shall rejoice to learn something of the manners of 
antiquity.” 

“The most pompous monument of Egyptian great- 
30 ness, and one of the most bulky works of manual in- 
dustry,” said Imlac, “are the pyramids — fabrics 
raised before the time of history, and of which the 


86 


JOHNSON. 


earliest narratives afford us only uncertain traditions. 

Of these the greatest is still standing, very little in- 
jured by time.” 

“Let us visit them to-morrow,” said Nekayah. ‘‘I 
have often heard of the pyramids, and shall not rest 5 
till I have seen them, within and without, with my 
own eyes.” 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THEY VISIT THE PYRAMIDS. 

The resolution being thus taken, they set out the io 
next day. They laid tents upon their camels, being 
resolved to stay among the pyramids till their curiosity 
was fully satisfied. They travelled gently, turned 
aside to everything remarkable, stopped from time to 
time and conversed with the inhabitants, and observed 15 
the various appearances of towns ruined and in- 
habited, of wild and cultivated nature. 

When they came to the great pyramid, they were 
astonished at the extent of the base and the height of 
the top. Imlac explained to them the principles upon 20 
which the pyramidal form was chosen for a fabric in- 
tended to co-extend its duration with that of the 
world; he showed that its gradual diminution gave it 
such stability as defeated all the common attacks of 
the elements, and could scarcely be overthrown by 25 
earthquakes themselves, the least resistible of natural 
violence. A concussion that should shatter the pyra- 
mid would threaten the dissolution of the continent. 

They measured all its dimensions, and pitched 
their tents at its foot. Next day they prepared to 30 


It A SSELA S. 


87 


enter its interior apartments, and having hired the 
common guides, climbed up to the first passage, when 
the favorite of the princess, looking into the cavity, 
stepped back and trembled. “Pekuah,” said the 
5 princess, “of what art thou afraid?” “Of the narrow 
entrance,” answered the lady, “and of the dreadful 
gloom. I dare not enter a place which must surely be 
inhabited by unquiet souls. The original possessors 
of these dreadful vaults will start up before us, and 
10 perhaps shut us up for ever.” She spoke, and threw 
her arms round the neck of her mistress. 

“If all your fear be of apparitions,” said the prince, 
“I will promise you safety. There is no danger from 
the dead; he that is once buried will be seen no 
15 more.” 

“That the dead are seen no more,” said Imlac, “I 
will not undertake to maintain against the concurrent 
and unvaried testimony of all ages and of all nations. 
There is no people, rude or learned, among whom 
20 apparitions of the dead are not related and believed. 
This opinion, which perhaps prevails as far as human 
nature is diffused, could become universal only by its 
truth; those that never heard of one another would 
not have agreed in a tale which nothing but experience 
25 can make credible. That it is doubted by single cavil- 
ers can very little weaken the general evidence, and 
some who deny it with their tongues, confess it by their 
fears. 

“Yet I do not mean to add new terrors to those 
30 which have already seized upon Pekuah. There can 
be no reason why spectres should haunt the pyramid 
more than other places, or why they should have 


88 


JOHNSON. 


power or will to hurt innocence and purity. Our 
entrance is no violation of their privileges; we can 
take nothing from them, how, then, can we offend 
them ? ’ ’ 

“ My dear Pekuah,” said the princess, ‘ ‘I will always 5 
go before you, and Imlac shall follow you. Remem- 
ber that you are the companion of the princess of 
Abyssinia.” 

“If the princess is pleased that her servant should 
die,” returned the lady, “let her command some death 10 
less dreadful than enclosure in this horrid cavern. 
You know I dare not disobey you; I must go if you 
command me, but if I once enter, I never shall come 
back.” 

The princess saw that her fear was too strong for 15 
expostulation or reproof, and, embracing her, told 
her that she should stay in the tent till their return. 
Pekuah was yet not satisfied, but entreated the prin- 
cess not to pursue so dreadful a purpose as that of en- 
tering the recesses of the pyramid. “Though I cannot 20 
teach courage,” said Nekayah, “I must not learn 
cowardice, nor leave at last undone what I came hither 
only to do.” 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

THEY ENTER THE PYRAMID. 25 

Pekuah descended to the tents, and the rest entered 
the pyramid. They passed through the galleries, sur- 
veyed the vaults of marble, and examined the chest in 
which the body of the founder is supposed to have 
been reposited. They then sat down in one of the 30 


RASSELAS. 89 

most spacious chambers to rest awhile before they 
attempted to return. 

‘"We have now,” said Imlac, “gratified our minds 
with an exact view of the greatest work of man, ex- 
5 cept the wall of China. 

“Of the wall it is very easy to assign the motives. 
It secured a wealthy and timorous nation from the 
incursions of barbarians, whose unskilfulness in arts 
made it easier for them to supply their wants by 
10 rapine than by industry, and who from time to time 
poured in upon the habitations of peaceful commerce, 
as vultures descend upon domestic fowl. Their celer- 
ity and fierceness made the wall necessary, and their 
ignorance made it efficacious. 

15 “But for the pyramids, no reason has ever been 
given adequate to the cost and labor of the work. 
The narrowness of the chambers proves that it could 
afford no retreat from enemies, and treasures might 
have been reposited at far less expense with equal 
20 security. It seems to have been erected only in com- 
pliance with that hunger of imagination which preys 
incessantly upon life, and must be always appeased by 
some employment. Those who have already all that 
they can enjoy must enlarge their desires. He that 
25 has built for use till use is supplied, must begin to 
build for vanity, and extend his plan to the utmost 
power of human performance, that he may not be 
soon reduced to form another wish. 

“I consider this mighty structure as a monument of 
30 the insufficiency of human enjoyments. A king whose 
power is unlimited, and whose treasures surmount all 
real and imaginary wants, is compelled to solace, by 


9 ° 


JOHNSON. 


the erection of a pyramid, the satiety of dominion and 
tastelessness of pleasures, and to amuse the tedious- 
ness of declining life by seeing thousands laboring 
without end, and one stone, for no purpose, laid upon 
another. Whoever thou art that, not content with 5 
a moderate condition, imaginest happiness in royal 
magnificence, and dreamest that command or riches 
can feed the appetite of novelty with successive gratifi- 
cations, survey the pyramids, and confess thy folly!” 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 10 

THE PRINCESS MEETS WITH AN UNEXPECTED 
MISFORTUNE. 

They rose up, and returned through the cavity at 
which they had entered ; and the princess prepared for 
her favorite a long narrative of dark labyrinths and 15 
costly rooms, and of the different impressions which 
the varieties of the way had made upon her. But 
when they came to their train, they found everyone 
silent and dejected; the men discovered shame and 
fear in their countenances, and the women were weep- 20 
ing in the tents. 

What had happened they did not try to conjecture, 
but immediately inquired. ‘‘You had scarcely entered 
into the pyramid,” said one of the attendants, ‘‘when 
a troop of Arabs rushed upon us. We were too few 25 
to resist them, and too slow to escape. They were 
about to search the tents, set us on our camels, and 
drive us along before them, when the approach of some 
Turkish horsemen put them to flight; but they seized 


RASSELAS. 


91 


the lady Pekuah with her two maids, and carried them 
away. The Turks are now pursuing them by our insti- 
gation, but I fear they will not be able to overtake them.” 

The princess was overpowered with surprise and 
5 grief. Rasselas, in the first heat of his resentment, 
ordered his servants to follow him, and prepared to 
pursue the robbers with his sabre in his hand. “Sir,” 
said Imlac, “what can you hope from violence or 
valor? The Arabs are mounted on horses trained to 
10 battle and retreat; we have only beasts of burthen. 
By leaving our present station we may lose the prin- 
cess, but cannot hope to regain Pekuah.” 

In a short time the Turks returned, having not been 
able to reach the enemy. The princess burst out into 
15 new lamentations, and Rasselas could scarcely forbear 
to reproach them with cowardice; but Imlac was of 
opinion that the escape of the Arabs was no addition 
to their misfortune, for perhaps they would have killed 
their captives rather than have resigned them. 


20 CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THEY RETURN TO CAIRO WITHOUT PEKUAH. 

There was nothing to be hoped from longer stay. 
They returned to Cairo repenting of their curiosity, 
censuring the negligence of the government, lament- 
25 ing their own rashness, which had neglected to pro- 
cure a guard, imagining many expedients by which the 
loss of Pekuah might have been prevented, and resolv- 
ing to do something for her recovery, though none 
could find anything proper to be done. 


92 


JOHNSON . 


Nekayah retired to her chamber, where her women 
attempted to comfort her by telling her that all had 
their troubles, and that lady Pekuah had enjoyed 
much happiness in the world for a long time, and might 
reasonably expect a change of fortune. They hoped 5 
that some good would befall her wheresoever she was, 
and that their mistress would find another friend who 
might supply her place. 

The princess made them no answer, and they con- 
tinued the form of condolence, not much grieved in 10 
their hearts that the favorite was lost. 

Next day the prince presented to the Bassa a 
memorial of the wrong which he had suffered, and a 
petition for redress. The Bassa threatened to punish 
the robbers, but did not attempt to catch them, nor 15 
indeed could any account or description be given by 
which he might direct the pursuit. 

It soon appeared that nothing would be done by 
authority. Governors being accustomed to hear of 
more crimes than they can punish, and more wrongs 20 
than they can redress, set themselves at ease by indis- 
criminate negligence, and presently forget the request 
when they lose sight of the petitioner. 

Imlac then endeavored to gain some intelligence by 
private agents. He found many who pretended to an 25 
exact knowledge of all the haunts of the Arabs, and 
to regular correspondence with their chiefs, and who 
readily undertook the recovery of Pekuah. Of these, 
some were furnished with money for their journey, 
and came back no more; some were liberally paid for 30 
accounts which a few days discovered to be false. 
But the princess would not suffer any means, however 


RA SSELA S. 


93 


improbable, to be left untried. While she was doing 
something, she kept her hope alive. As one expe- 
dient failed, another was suggested; when one mes- 
senger returned unsuccessful, another was despatched 
5 to a different quarter. 

Two months had now passed, and of Pekuah noth- 
ing had been heard ; the hopes which they had en- 
deavored to raise in each other grew more languid, 
and the princess, when she saw nothing more to be 
io tried, sunk down inconsolable in hopeless dejection. 
A thousand times she reproached herself with the 
easy compliance by which she permitted her favorite 
to stay behind her. “Had not my fondness,” said 
she, “lessened my authority, Pekuah had not dared to 
15 talk of her terrors. She ought to have feared me 
more than spectres. A severe look would have over- 
powered her; a peremptory command would have 
compelled obedience. Why did foolish indulgence 
prevail upon me? Why did I not speak, and refuse 
20 to hear?” 

“Great princess,” said Imlac, “do not reproach 
yourself for your virtue, or consider that as blamable 
by which evil has accidentally been caused. Your 
tenderness for the timidity of Pekuah was generous 
25 and kind. When we act according to our duty, we 
commit the event to Him by whose laws our actions 
are governed, and who will suffer none to be finally 
punished for obedience. When, in prospect of some 
good, whether natural or moral, we break the rules 
30 prescribed us, we withdraw from the direction of 
superior wisdom, and take all consequences upon our- 
selves. Man cannot so far know the connection of 


94 


JOHNSON. 


causes and events, as that he may venture to do wrong 
in order to do right. When we pursue our end by law- 
ful means, we may always console our miscarriage by 
the hope of future recompense. When we consult 
only our own policy, and attempt to find a nearer 5 
way to good by overleaping the settled boundaries of 
right and wrong, we cannot be happy even by success, 
because we cannot escape the consciousness of our 
fault; but if we miscarry, the disappointment is irre- 
mediably embittered. How comfortless is the sorrow 10 
of him who feels at once the pangs of guilt, and the vex- 
ation of calamity which guilt has brought upon him ! 

“Consider, princess, what would have been your 
condition if the lady Pekuah had entreated to accom- 
pany you, and, being compelled to stay in the tents, 15 
had been carried away; or how would you have borne 
the thought, if you had forced her into the pyramid, 
and she had died before you in agonies of terror?” 

“Had either happened,” said Nekayah, “I could 
not have endured life till now; I should have been tor- 20 
tured to madness by the remembrance of such cruelty, 
or must have pined away in abhorrence of myself.” 

“This, at least,” said Imlac, “is the present reward 
of virtuous conduct, that no unlucky consequence can 
oblige us to repent it.” 25 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE PRINCESS CONTINUES TO LAMENT PEKUAH. 

Nekayah, being thus reconciled to herself, found 
that no evil is insupportable but that which is accom- 
panied with consciousness of wrong. She was from 30 


RA SSELA S. 


95 


that time delivered from the violence of tempestuous 
sorrow, and sunk into silent pensiveness and gloomy 
tranquillity. She sat from morning to evening recol- 
lecting all that had been done or said by her Pekuah, 
5 treasured up with care every trifle on which Pekuah 
had set an accidental value, and which might recall to 
mind any little incident or careless conversation. The 
sentiments of her whom she now expected to see no 
more, were treasured up in her memory as rules of life, 
io and she deliberated to no other end than to conjecture 
on any occasion, what would have been the opinion 
and counsel of Pekuah. 

The women by whom she was attended knew noth- 
ing of her real condition, and therefore she could not 
15 talk to them but with caution and reserve. She began 
to remit her curiosity, having no great care to collect 
notions which she had no convenience of uttering. 
Rasselas endeavored first to comfort and afterward to 
divert her. He hired musicians, to whom she seemed 
20 to listen, but did not hear them; and procured 
masters to instruct her in various arts, whose lectures, 
when they visited her again, were again to be repeated. 
She had lost her taste of pleasure and her ambition of 
excellence; and her mind, though forced into short 
25 excursions, always recurred to the image of her friend. 

Imlac was every morning earnestly enjoined to 
renew his inquiries, and was asked every night whether 
he had yet heard of Pekuah, till, not being able to 
return the princess the answer that she desired, he was 
30 less and less willing to come into her presence. She 
observed his backwardness, and commanded him to 
attend her. “You are not,” said she, “to confound 


9 6 


JOHNSON. 


impatience with resentment, or to suppose that I 
charge you with negligence because I repine at your 
unsuccessfulness. I do not much wonder at your 
absence; I know that the unhappy are never pleasing, 
and that all naturally avoid the contagion of misery. 5 
To hear complaints is wearisome alike to the wretched 
and the happy; for who would cloud by adventitious 
grief the short gleams of gayety which life allows us? 
or who that is struggling under his own evils will add 
to them the miseries of another? 10 

“The time is at hand when none shall be disturbed 
any longer by the sighs of Nekayah; my search after 
happiness is now at an end. I am resolved to retire 
from the world, with all its flatteries and deceits, and 
will hide myself in solitude, without any other care 15 
than to compose my thoughts, and regulate my hours 
by a constant succession of innocent occupations, till, 
with a mind purified from all earthly desires, I shall 
enter into that state to which all are hastening, and 
in which I hope again to enjoy the friendship of 20 
Pekuah.” 

“Do not entangle your mind,” said Imlac, “by 
irrevocable determinations, nor increase the burthen 
of life by a voluntary accumulation of misery. The 
weariness of retirement will continue or increase when 25 
the loss of Pekuah is forgotten. That you have been 
deprived of one pleasure is no very good reason for 
rejection of the rest.” 

“Since Pekuah was taken from me,” said the prin- 
cess, “I have no pleasure to reject or to retain. She 30 
that has no one to love or trust has little to hope; she 
wants the radical principle of happiness. We may, 


RASSELAS. 


97 


perhaps, allow that what satisfaction this world can 
afford, must arise from the conjunction of wealth, 
knowledge, and goodness. Wealth is nothing but as 
it is bestowed, and knowledge nothing but as it is 
5 communicated. Goodness affords the only comfort 
which can be enjoyed without a partner, and goodness 
may be practised in retirement.” 

“How far solitude may admit goodness or advance 
it, I shall not,” replied Imlac, “dispute at present, 
io Remember the confession of the pious hermit. You 
will wish to return into the world when the image of 
your companion has left your thoughts.” “That 
time,” said Nekayah, “will never come. The gen- 
erous frankness, the modest obsequiousness, and the 
15 faithful secrecy of my dear Pekuah will always be 
more missed as I shall live longer to see vice and 
folly.” 

“The state of a mind oppressed with a sudden 
calamity,” said Imlac, “is like that of the fabulous 
20 inhabitants of the new-created earth, who, when the 
first night came upon them, supposed that day never 
would return. When the clouds of sorrow gather over 
us, we see nothing beyond them, nor can imagine how 
they will be dispelled; yet a new day succeeded to the 
25 night, and sorrow is never long without a dawn of 
ease. But they who restrain themselves from receiv- 
ing comfort, do as the savages would have done had 
they put out their eyes when it was dark. Our minds, 
like our bodies, are in continual flux; something is 
30 hourly lost, and something acquired. To lose much 
at once is inconvenient to either, but while the vital 
powers remain uninjured, nature will find the mean s 


9 8 


JOHNSON. 


of reparation. Distance has the same effect on the 
mind as on the eye; and while we glide along the 
stream of time, whatever we leave behind us is always 
lessening, and that which we approach increasing in 
magnitude. Do not suffer life to stagnate; it will 5 
grow muddy for want of motion. Commit yourself 
again to the current of the world. Pekuah will vanish 
by degrees; you will meet in your way some other 
favorite, or learn to diffuse yourself in general con- 
versation.” 10 

‘‘At least,” said the prince, “do not despair before 
all remedies have been tried. The inquiry after the 
unfortunate lady is still continued, and shall be carried 
on with yet greater diligence, on condition that you 
will promise to wait a year for the event, without any 15 
unalterable resolution.” 

Nekayah thought this a reasonable demand, and 
made the promise to her brother, who had been 
advised by Imlac to require it. Imlac had, indeed, 
no great hope of regaining Pekuah; but he supposed 20 
that if he could secure the interval of a year, the prin- 
cess would be then in no danger of a cloister. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

PEKUAH IS STILL REMEMBERED BY THE PRINCESS. 

Nekayah, seeing that nothing was omitted for the 25 
recovery of her favorite, and having by her promise 
set her intention of retirement at a distance, began 
imperceptibly to return to common cares and common 
pleasures. She rejoiced without her own consent at 


J\A SSELA S. 


99 


the suspension of her sorrows, and sometimes caught 
herself, with indignation, in the act of turning away her 
mind from the remembrance of her whom yet she 
resolved never to forget. 

5 She then appointed a certain hour of the day for 
meditation on the merits and fondness of Pekuah, and 
for some weeks retired constantly at the time fixed, 
and returned with her eyes swollen and her counte- 
nance clouded. By degrees she grew less scrupulous, 
io and suffered any important and pressing avocation to 
delay the tribute of daily tears. She then yielded to 
less occasions ; sometimes forgot what she was, indeed, 
afraid to remember, and at last wholly released herself 
from the duty of periodical affliction. 

15 Her real love of Pekuah was yet not diminished. A 
thousand occurrences brought her back to memory, and 
a thousand wants, which nothing but the confidence 
of friendship can supply, made her frequently 
regretted. She therefore solicited Imlac never to 
20 desist from inquiry, and to leave no art of intelli- 
gence untried, that at least she might have the com- 
fort of knowing that she did not suffer by negligence 
or sluggishness. “Yet what,” said she, “is to be 
expected from our pursuit of happiness, when we find 
25 the state of life to be such that happiness itself is the 
cause of misery? Why should we endeavor to attain 
that of which the possession cannot be secured? I 
shall henceforward fear to yield my heart to excel- 
lence, however bright, or to fondness, however tender, 
30 lest I should lose again what I have lost in Pekuah. ’’ 


IOO 


JOHNSON. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE PRINCESS HEARS NEWS OF PEKUAH. 

In seven months, one of the messengers who had 
been sent away upon the day when the promise was 
drawn from the princess, returned, after many unsuc- 5 
cessful rambles, from the borders of Nubia, with an 
account that Pekuah was in the hands of an Arab 
chief, who possessed a castle or fortress on the 
extremity of Egypt. The Arab, whose revenue was 
plunder, was willing to restore her, with her two 10 
attendants, for two hundred ounces of gold. 

The price was no subject of debate. The princess 
was in ecstasies when she heard that her favorite was 
alive, and might so cheaply be ransomed. She could 
not think of delaying for a moment Pekuah’s happi- 15 
ness or her own, but entreated her brother to send 
back the messenger with the sum required. Imlac, 
being consulted, was not very confident of the veracity 
of the relater, and was still more doubtful of the 
Arab’s faith, who might, if he were too liberally 20 
trusted, detain at once the money and the captives. 
He thought it dangerous to put themselves in the 
power of the Arab by going into his district, and could 
not expect that the Arab would so much expose him- 
self as to come into the lower country, where he might 25 
be seized by the forces of the Bassa. 

It is difficult to negotiate where neither will trust. 
But Imlac, after some deliberation directed the mes- 
senger to propose that Pekuah should be conducted 
by ten horsemen to the monastery of St. Anthony, 30 


RASSELAS. 


iot 


which is situated in the deserts of Upper Egypt, 
where she should be met by the same number, and her 
ramsom should be paid. 

That no time might be lost, as they expected that the 
5 proposal would not be refused, they immediately began 
their journey to the monastery; and when they arrived, 
Imlac went forward with the former messenger to the 
Arab’s fortress. Rasselas was desirous to go with 
them, but neither his sister nor Imlac would consent, 
io The Arab, according to the custom of his nation, 
observed the laws of hospitality with great exactness to 
those who put themselves into his power, and in a few 
days brought Pekuah with her maids, by easy journeys, 
to their place appointed, where he received the stipu- 
15 lated price, and with great respect restored her to 
liberty and her friends, and undertook to conduct 
them back towards Cairo beyond all danger of robbery 
or violence. 

The princess and her favorite embraced each other 
20 with transport too violent to be expressed, and went 
out together to pour the tears of tenderness in secret, 
and exchange professions of kindness and gratitude. 
After a few hours they returned into the refectory of 
the convent, where, in the presence of the prior and 
25 his brethren, the prince required of Pekuah the history 
of her adventures. 


102 


JOHNSON. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE ADVENTURES OF THE LADY PEKUAH. 

“At what time and in what manner I was forced 
away,” said Pekuah, “your servants have told you. 
The suddenness of the event struck me with surprise, 
and I was at first rather stupefied than agitated with 
any passion of either fear or sorrow. My confusion 
w r as increased by the speed and tumult of our flight 
while we were followed by the Turks, who, as it 
seemed, soon despaired to overtake us, or were afraid 
of those whom they made a show of menacing. 

“When the Arabs saw themselves out of danger, 
they slackened their course, and as I was less harassed 
-by external violence I began to feel more uneasiness 
in my mind. After some time we stopped near a 
spring shaded with trees, in a pleasant meadow, where 
we were set upon the ground, and offered such 
refreshments as our masters were partaking. I was 
suffered to sit with my maids apart from the rest, and 
none attempted to comfort or insult us. Here I first 
began to feel the full weight of my misery. The girls 
sat weeping in silence, and from time to time looke4 
up to me for succor. I knew not to what condition 
we were doomed, nor could conjecture where would 
be the place of our captivity, or whence to draw any 
hope of deliverance. I was in the hands of robbers 
and savages, and had no reason to suppose that their 
pity was more than their justice, or that they would 
forbear the gratification of any ardor of desire, or 
caprice of cruelty. I, however, kissed my maids, and 


5 

io 

15 

20 

25 

30 


RASSELAS. 


103 


endeavored to pacify them by remarking that we were 
yet treated with decency, and that since we were 
now carried beyond pursuit, there was no danger of 
violence to our lives. 

5 “When we were to be set again on horseback, my 
maids clung round me, and refused to be parted ; but 
I commanded them not to irritate those who had us in 
their power. We travelled the remaining part of the 
day through an unfrequented and pathless country, 
10 and came by moonlight to the side of a hill, where 
the rest of the troop was stationed. Their tents were 
pitched and their fires kindled, and our chief was wel- 
comed as a man much beloved by his dependents. 

“We were received into a large tent, where we found 
15 women who had attended their husbands in the 
expedition. They set before us the supper which they 
had provided, and I eat it rather to encourage my 
maids than to comply with any appetite of my own. 
When the meat was taken away, they spread the 
20 carpets for repose. I was weary, and hoped to find 
in sleep that remission of distress which nature 
seldom denies. Ordering myself, therefore, to be 
undressed, I observed that the women looked very 
earnestly upon me, not expecting I suppose to see 
25 me so submissively attended. When my upper vest 
was taken off, they were apparently struck with the 
splendor of my clothes, and one of them timorously 
laid her hand upon the embroidery. She then went 
out, and in a short time came back with another 
30 woman, who seemed to be of higher rank and greater 
authority. She did, at her entrance, the usual act of 
reverence, and, taking me by the hand, placed me in 


104 


JOHNSON. 


a smaller tent, spread with finer carpets, where I 
spent the night quietly with my maids. 

“In the morning, as I was sitting on the grass, the 
chief of the troops came towards me. I rose up to 
receive him, and he bowed with great respect. ‘Illus- 5 
trious lady,’ said he, ‘my fortune is better than I had 
presumed to hope; I am told by my women that I 
have a princess in my camp.’ ‘Sir,’ answered I, 
‘your women have deceived themselves and you; I am 
not a princess, but an unhappy stranger who intended 10 
soon to have left this country, in which I am now to 
be imprisoned forever.’ ‘Whoever or whencesoever 
you are,’ returned the Arab, ‘your dress, and that of 
your servants, show your rank to be high and your 
wealth to be great. Why should you, who can so 15 
easily procure your ransom, think yourself in danger 
of perpetual captivity? The purpose of my incursions 
is to increase my riches, or more properly to gather 
tribute. The sons of Ishmael are the natural and 
hereditary lords of this part of the continent, which 20 
is usurped by late invaders and low-born tyrants, from 
whom we are compelled to take by the sword what is 
denied to justice. The violence of war admits no 
distinction; the lance that is lifted at guilt and power 
will sometimes fall on innocence and gentleness.’ 25 
“ ‘How little,’ said I, ‘did I expect that yesterday 
it should have fallen upon me ! ’ 

“ ‘Misfortunes,’ answered the Arab, ‘should always 
be expected. If the eye of hostility could have 
learned to spare, excellence like yours had been 30 
exempt from injury. But the angels of affliction 
spread their toils alike for the virtuous and the wicked, 


RA SSELA S. 


I0 5 

for the mighty and the mean. Do not be disconso- 
late ; I am not one of the lawless and cruel rovers of 
the desert. I know the rules of civil life; I will fix 
your ransom, give a passport to your messenger, and 
5 perform my stipulation with nice punctuality.’ 

“You will easily believe that I was pleased with his 
courtesy; and finding that his predominant passion 
was desire of money, I began now to think my danger 
less, for I knew that no sum would be thought too 
io great for the release of Pekuah. I told him that he 
should have no reason to charge me with ingratitude 
if I was used with kindness, and that any ransom 
which could be expected for a maid of common rank 
would be paid, but that he must not persist to rate 
15 me as a princess. He said he would consider what 
he should demand, and then, smiling, bowed and 
retired. 

“Soon after the women came about me, each con- 
tending to be more officious than the other, and my 
20 maids themselves were served with reverence. We 
travelled onward by short journeys. On the fourth 
day the chief told me that my ransom must be two 
hundred ounces of gold, which I not only promised 
him, but told him that I would add fifty more if I and 
25 my maids were honorably treated. 

“I never knew the power of gold before. From that 
time I was the leader of the troop. The march of 
every day was longer or shorter as I commanded, and 
the tents were pitched where I chose to rest. We 
30 now had camels and other conveniences for travel; my 
own women were always at my side, and I amused 
myself with observing the manners of the vagrant 


io6 


JOHNSON . 


nations, and with viewing remains of ancient edifices, 
with which these deserted countries appear to have 
been, in some distant age, lavishly embellished. 

“The chief of the band was a man far from 
illiterate; he was able to travel by the stars or the 
compass, and had marked in his erratic expeditions 
such places as are most worthy the notice of a 
passenger. He observed to me that buildings are 
always best preserved in places little frequented and 
difficult of access; for when once a country declines 
from its primitive splendor, the more inhabitants are 
left, the quicker ruin will be made. Walls supply 
stones more easily than quarries, and palaces and 
temples will be demolished to make stables of granite 
and cottages of porphyry.’ “ 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE ADVENTURES OF PEKUAH CONTINUED. 

“We wandered about in this manner for some 
weeks, whether, as our chief pretended, for my grati- 
fication, or, as I rather suspected, for some conveni- 
ence of his own. I endeavored to appear contented 
where sullenness and resentment would have been of 
no use, and that endeavor conduced much to the calm- 
ness of my mind; but my heart was always with 
Nekayah, and the troubles of the night much over- 
balanced the amusements of the day. My women, 
who threw all their cares upon their mistress, set their 
minds at ease from the time when they saw me treated 
with respect, and gave themselves up to the incidental 


5 

io 

15 

20 

25 


RASSELAS. 


107 


alleviations of our fatigue without solicitude or sorrow. 
I was pleased with their pleasure, and animated with 
their confidence. My condition had lost much of its 
terror, since I found that the Arab ranged the country 
5 merely to get riches. Avarice is an uniform and trac- 
table vice. Other intellectual distempers are different 
in different constitutions of mind ; that which soothes 
the pride of one will offend the pride of another; but 
to the favor of the covetous there is a ready way, 
10 bring money, and nothing is denied. 

“At last we came to the dwelling of our chief, a 
strong and spacious house built with stone in an island 
of the Nile, which lies, as I was told, under the tropic. 
‘Lady,’ said the Arab, ‘you shall rest a few weeks 
15 after your journey in this place, where you are to con- 
sider yourself as sovereign. My occupation is war. I 
have therefore chosen this obscure residence, from 
which I can issue unexpected, and to which I can 
retire unpursued. You may now repose in security; 
20 here are few pleasures, but here is no danger.’ He 
then led me into the inner apartments, and seating me 
in the place of honor, bowed to the ground. His 
women, who considered me as a rival, looked on me 
with malignity; but being soon informed that I was a 
25 great lady detained only for my ransom, they began to 
vie with each other in obsequiousness and reverence. 

“Being again comforted with new assurances of 
speedy liberty, I was for some days diverted from 
impatience by the novelty of the place. The turrets 
30 overlooked the country to a great distance, and 
afforded a view of many windings of the stream. In 
the day I wandered from one place to another, as the 


io8 


JOHNSON. 


course of the sun varied the splendor of the prospect, 
and saw many things which I had never seen before. 
The crocodiles and river-horses were common in this 
unpeopled region, and I often looked upon them with 
terror, though I knew that they could not hurt me. 5 
For some time I expected to see mermaids and tritons, 
which, as Imlac has told me, the European travellers 
have stationed in the Nile, but no such beings ever 
appeared, and the Arab, when I inquired after them, 
laughed at my credulity. 10 

‘ ‘At night the Arab always attended me to a tower set 
apart for celestial observations, where he endeavored 
to teach me the names and courses of the stars. I 
had no great inclination to this study; but an appear- 
ance of attention was necessary to please my in- 15 
structor, who valued himself for his skill, and in a 
little while I found some employment requisite to be- 
guile the tediousness of time, which was to be passed 
always amidst the same objects. I was weary of look- 
ing in the morning on things from which I had turned 20 
away weary in the evening; I therefore was at last 
willing to observe the stars rather than do nothing, but 
could not always compose my thoughts, and was very 
often thinking on Nekayah when others imagined me 
contemplating the sky. Soon after, the Arab went 25 
upon another expedition, and then my only pleasure 
was to talk with my maids about the accident by which 
we were carried away, and the happiness that we 
should all enjoy at the end of our captivity.” 

“There were women in your Arab’s fortress,” said 30 
the princess, “why did you not make them your com- 
panions, enjoy their conversation, and partake their 


RASSELAS. 


109 

diversions? In a place where they found business or 
amusement, why should you alone sit corroded with 
idle melancholy? or why could not you bear for a few 
months that condition to which they were condemned 
5 for life?" 

"The diversions of the women," answered Pekuah, 
"were only childish play, by which the mind accus- 
tomed to stronger operations could not be kept busy. 
I could do all which they delighted in doing by powers 
10 merely sensitive, while my intellectual faculties were 
flown to Cairo. They ran from room to room, as a 
bird hops from wire to wire in his cage. They danced 
for the sake of motion, as lambs frisk in a meadow. 
One sometimes pretended to be hurt that the rest 
15 might be alarmed, or hid herself that another might 
seek her. Part of their time passed in watching the 
progress of light bodies that floated on the river, and 
part in marking the various forms into which clouds 
broke in the sky. 

20 "Their business was only needle-work, in which I 
and my maids sometimes helped them; but you know 
that the mind will easily straggle from the fingers, 
nor will you suspect that captivity and absence from 
Nekayah could be much solaced by silken flowers. 

25 "Nor was much satisfaction to be hoped from their 
conversation; for of what could they be expected to 
talk? They had seen nothing, for they had lived from 
early youth in that narrow spot ; of what they had not 
seen they could have no knowledge, for they could 
30 not read. They had no ideas but of the few things 
that were within their view, and had hardly names for 
anything but their clothes and their food. As I bore 


no 


JOHNSON. 


a superior character, I was often called to terminate 
their quarrels, which I decided as equitably as I could. 

If it could have amused me to hear the complaints of 
each against the rest, I might have been often detained 
by long stories, but the motives of their animosity 5 
were so small that I could not listen long without 
intercepting the tale.” 

“How,” said Rasselas, “can the Arab, whom you 
represented as a man of more than common accom- 
plishments, take any pleasure in his seraglio, when it 10 
is filled only with women like these? Are they 
exquisitely beautiful?” 

‘‘They do not,” said Pekuah, ‘‘want that unaffect- 
ing and ignoble beauty which may subsist without 
sprightliness or sublimity, without energy of thought 15 
or dignity of virtue. But to a man like the Arab such 
beauty was only a flower casually plucked and care- 
lessly thrown away. Whatever pleasures he might find 
among them, they were not those of friendship or 
society. When they were playing about him he looked 20 
on them with inattentive superiority; when they vied 
for his regard he sometimes turned away disgusted. 

As they had no knowledge, their talk could take noth- 
ing from the tediousness of life; as they had no choice, 
their fondness, or appearance of fondness, excited in 25 
him neither pride nor gratitude. He was not exalted 
in his own esteem, by the smiles of a woman who saw 
no other man, nor was much obliged by that regard of 
which he could never know the sincerity, and which he 
might often perceive to be exerted not so much to 30 
delight him as to pain a rival. That which he gave, 
and they received, as love, was only a careless distri- 


J?A SSELA S. 


ill 


bution of superfluous time, such love as man can 
bestow upon that which he despises, such as has 
neither hope nor fear, neither joy nor sorrow.” 

“You have reason, lady, to think yourself happy,” 
5 said Imlac, “that you have been thus easily dismissed. 
How could a mind, hungry for knowledge, be willing, 
in an intellectual famine, to lose such a banquet as 
Pekuah’s conversation?” 

“I am inclined to believe,” answered Pekuah, 
io “that he was for some time in suspense; for, notwith- 
standing his promise, whenever I proposed to de- 
spatch a messenger to Cairo, he found some excuse for 
delay. While I was detained in his house he made 
many incursions into the neighboring countries, and 
15 perhaps he would have refused to discharge me, had 
his plunder been equal to his wishes. He returned 
always courteous, related his adventures, delighted to 
hear my observations, and endeavored to advance my 
acquaintance with the stars. When I importuned him 
20 to send away my letters, he soothed me with profes- 
sions of honor and sincerity; and when I could be no 
longer decently denied, put his troop again in motion, 
and left me to govern in his absence. I was much 
afflicted by this studied procrastination, and was some- 
25 times afraid that I should be forgotten ; that you would 
leave Cairo, and I must end my days in an island of 
the Nile. 

“I grew at last hopeless and dejected, and cared so 
little to entertain him, that he for a while more f re- 
30 quently talked with my maids. That he should fall in 
love with them or with me, might have been equally 
fatal, and I was not much pleased with the growing 


I 12 


JOHNSON. 


friendship. My anxiety was not long; for, as I 
recovered some degree of cheerfulness, he returned 
to me, and I could not forbear to despise my former 
uneasiness. 

“He still delayed to send for my ransom, and would 
perhaps never have determined had not your agent 
found his way to him. The gold, which he would not 
fetch, he could not reject when it was offered. He 
hastened to prepare for our journey hither, like a man 
delivered from the pain of an intestine conflict. I 
took leave of my companions in the house, who dis- 
missed me with cold indifference.” 

Nekayah having heard her favorite’s relation, rose 
and embraced her, and Rasselas gave her an hundred 
ounces of gold, which she presented to the Arab for 
the fifty that were promised. 

CHAPTER XL. 

THE HISTORY OF A MAN OF LEARNING. 

They returned to Cairo, and were so well pleased 
at finding themselves together that none of them went 
much abroad. The prince began to love learning, and 
one day declared to Imlac that he intended to devote 
himself to science, and pass the rest of his days in 
literary solitude. 

“Before you make your final choice,” answered 
Imlac, “you ought to examine its hazards, and con- 
verse with some of those who are grown old in the 
company of themselves. I have just left the observa- 
tory of one of the most learned astronomers in the 


5 

io 

15 

20 

25 


KASSEL AS. 


“3 

world, who has spent forty years in unwearied atten- 
tion to the motions and appearances of the celestial 
bodies, and has drawn out his soul in endless calcula- 
tions. He admits a few friends once a month to hear 
5 his deductions and enjoy his discoveries. I was intro- 
duced as a man of knowledge worthy of his notice. 
Men of various ideas and fluent conversation are com- 
monly welcome to those whose thoughts have been 
long fixed upon a single point, and who find the 
io images of other things stealing away. I delighted him 
with my remarks; he smiled at the narrative of my 
travels, and was glad to forget the constellations, and 
descend for a moment into the lower world. 

“On the next day of vacation I renewed my visit, 
15 and was so fortunate as to please him again. He 
relaxed from that time the severity of his rule, and 
permitted me to enter at my own choice. I found him 
always busy and always glad to be relieved. As each 
knew much which the other was desirous of learning, 
20 we exchanged our notions with great delight. I per- 
ceived that I had every day more of his confidence, 
and always found new cause of admiration in the pro- 
fundity of his mind. His comprehension is vast, his 
memory capacious and retentive, his discourse is 
25 methodical, and his expression clear. 

“His integrity and benevolence are equal to his 
learning. His deepest researches and most favorite 
studies are willingly interrupted for any opportunity of 
doing good by his counsel or his riches. To his closest 
30 retreat, at his most busy moments, all are admitted 
that want his assistance; ‘For though I exclude idle- 
ness and pleasure, I will never,’ says he, ‘bar my 


JOHNSON. 


114 

doors against charity. To man is permitted the con- 
templation of the skies, but the practice of virtue is 
commanded.’ ” 

“Surely,” said the princess, “this man is happy.” 

“I visited him,” said Imlac, “with more and more 5 
frequency, and was every time more enamored of his 
conversation ; he was sublime without haughtiness, 
courteous without formality, and communicative with- 
out ostentation. I was at first, madam, of your opin- 
ion, thought him the happiest of mankind, and often 10 
congratulated him on the blessing that he enjoyed. 
He seemed to hear nothing with indifference but the 
praises of his condition, to which he always returned a 
general answer, and diverted the conversation to some 
other topic. 15 

“Amidst this willingness to be pleased, and labor 
to please, I had always reason to imagine that some 
painful sentiment pressed upon his mind. He often 
looked up earnestly towards the sun, and let his voice 
fall in the midst of his discourse. He would some- 20 
times, when we were alone, gaze upon me in silence 
with the air of a man who longed to speak what he 
was yet resolved to suppress. He would sometimes 
send for me with vehement injunctions of haste, 
though when I came to him he had nothing extraor- 25 
dinary to say; and sometimes, when I was leaving him, 
would call me back, pause a few moments, and then 
dismiss me.” 


RASSELAS. 


1*5 


CHAPTER XLI. 

THE ASTRONOMER DISCOVERS THE CAUSE OF HIS 
UNEASINESS. 

“At last the time came when the secret burst his 
5 reserve. We were sitting together last night in the 
turret of his house, watching the emersion of a satellite 
of Jupiter. A sudden tempest clouded the sky and 
disappointed our observation. We sat awhile silent in 
the dark, and then he addressed himself to me in these 
10 words: ‘Imlac, I have long considered thy friendship 
as the greatest blessing of my life. Integrity without 
knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge with- 
out integrity is dangerous and dreadful. I have found 
in thee all the qualities requisite for trust, — benevo- 
15 lence, experience, and fortitude. I have long dis- 
charged an office which I must soon quit at the call of 
nature, and shall rejoice in the hour of imbecility and 
pain to devolve it upon thee.’ 

“I thought myself honored by this testimony, and 
20 protested that whatever could conduce to his happi- 
ness would add likewise to mine. 

“ ‘Hear, Imlac, what thou wilt not without diffi- 
culty credit. I have possessed for five years the regu- 
lation of weather and the distribution of the seasons. 
25 The sun has listened to my dictates, and passed from 
tropic to tropic by my direction ; the clouds at my call 
have poured their waters, and the Nile has overflowed 
at my command ; I have restrained the rage of the 
Dog-star, and mitigated the fervors of the Crab. The 
30 winds alone, of all the elemental powers, have hitherto 


n6 


JOHNSON. 


refused my authority, and multitudes have perished by 
equinoctial tempests which I found myself unable to 
prohibit or restrain. I have administered this great 
office with exact justice, and made to the different 
nations of the earth an impartial dividend of rain and 5 
sunshine. What must have been the misery of half 
the globe, if I had limited the clouds to particular 
regions, or confined the sun to either side of the 
equator?’ ” 

CHAPTER XLII. 10 

THE ASTRONOMER JUSTIFIES HIS ACCOUNT OF 
HIMSELF. 

“I suppose he discovered in me, through the obscur- 
ity of the room, some tokens of amazement and doubt, 
for after a short pause he proceeded thus: 15 

“ ‘Not to be easily credited will neither surprise 
nor offend me, for I am probably the first of human 
beings to whom this trust has been imparted. Nor do 
I know whether to deem this distinction a reward or 
punishment. Since I have possessed it I have been 20 
far less happy than before, and nothing but the con- 
sciousness of good intention could have enabled me 
to support the weariness of unremitted vigilance.’ 

“ ‘How long, sir,’ said I, ‘has this great office been 
in your hands?’ 25 

“ ‘About ten years ago,’ said he, ‘my daily observa- 
tions of the changes of the sky led me to consider 
whether, if I had the power of the seasons, I could 
confer greater plenty upon the inhabitants of the 
earth. This contemplation fastened on my mind, and 30 


RASSELAS. 


17 


I sat days and nights in imaginary dominion, pouring 
upon this country and that the showers of fertility, 
and seconding every fall of rain with a due proportion 
of sunshine. I had yet only the will to do good, and 
5 did not imagine that I should ever have the power. 

‘One day as I was looking on the fields withering 
with heat, I felt in my mind a sudden wish that I 
could send rain on the southern mountains, and raise 
the Nile to an inundation. In the hurry of my imag- 
ioination I commanded rain to fall, and, by comparing 
the time of my command with that of the inundation, 
I found that the clouds had listened to my lips.’ 

“ ‘Might not some other cause,’ said I, ‘produce 
this concurrence? The Nile does not always rise on 
15 the same day.’ 

“ ‘Do not believe,’ said he, with impatience, ‘that 
such objections could escape me. I reasoned long 
against my own conviction, and labored against truth 
with the utmost obstinacy. I sometimes suspected 
20 myself of madness, and should not have dared to 
impart this secret but to a man like you, capable of 
distinguishing the wonderful from the impossible, and 
the incredible from the false.’ 

“ ‘Why, sir,’ said I, ‘do you call that incredible 
25 which you know, or think you know, to be true?’ 

“ ‘Because,’ said he, ‘I cannot prove it by any 
external evidence; and I know too well the laws of dem- 
onstration to think that my conviction ought to influ- 
ence another, who cannot, like me, be conscious of its 
30 force. I therefore shall not attempt to gain credit by 
disputation. It is sufficient that I feel this power that 
I have long possessed, and every day exerted it. But 


1 18 JOHNSON. 

the life of man is short, the infirmities of age increase 
upon me, and the time will soon come when the regu- 
lator of the year must mingle with the dust. The care 
of appointing a successor has long disturbed me; the 
night and the day have been spent in comparisons of 
all the characters which have come to my knowledge, 
and I have yet found none so worthy as thyself.’ ” 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

THE ASTRONOMER LEAVES IMLAC HIS DIRECTIONS. 

“ ‘Hear therefore, what I shall impart, with 
attention, such as the welfare of a world requires. If 
the task of a king be considered as difficult, who has 
the care only of a few millions, to whom he cannot do 
much good or harm, what must be the anxiety of him 
on whom depend the action of the elements and the 
great gifts of light and heat! Hear me therefore with 
attention. 

“ ‘I have diligently considered the position of the 
earth and sun, and formed innumerable schemes in 
which I changed their situation. I have sometimes 
turned aside the axis of the earth, and sometimes 
varied the ecliptic of the sun, but I have found it im- 
possible to make a disposition by which the world may 
be advantaged; what one region gains, another loses 
by any imaginable alteration, even without considering 
the distant parts of the solar system with which we are 
unacquainted. Do not, therefore, in thy administra- 
tion of the year, indulge thy pride by innovation; do 
not please thyself with thinking, that thou canst make 


5 

io 

15 

20 

25 


RA SSELA S. 


119 

thyself renowned to all future ages by disordering the 
seasons. The memory of mischief is no desirable 
fame. Much less will it become thee to let kindness 
or interest prevail. Never rob other countries of rain 
5 to pour it on thine own. For us the Nile is sufficient.’ 

“I promised that when I possessed the power I 
would use it with inflexible integrity, and he dismissed 
me, pressing my hand. ‘My heart,’ said he, ‘will be 
now at rest, and my benevolence will no more destroy 
10 my quiet; I have found a man of wisdom and virtue, 
to whom I can cheerfully bequeath the inheritance of 
the sun.’ ” 

The prince heard this narration with very serious 
regard, but the princess smiled, and Pekuah convulsed 
15 herself with laughter. “Ladies,” said Imlac, “to 
mock the heaviest of human afflictions is neither char- 
itable nor wise. Few can attain this man’s knowledge 
and few practise his virtues, but all may suffer his 
calamity. Of the uncertainties of our present state, 
20 the most dreadful and alarming is the uncertain con- 
tinuance of reason.” 

The princess was recollected, and the favorite was 
abashed. Rasselas, more deeply affected, inquired of 
Imlac, whether he thought such maladies of the mind 
25 frequent, and how they were contracted. 


120 


JOHNSON. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

THE DANGEROUS PREVALENCE OF IMAGINATION. 

“Disorders of intellect,” answered Imlac, “happen 
much more often than superficial observers will easily 
believe. Perhaps if we speak with rigorous exactness, 5 
no human mind is in its right state. There is no man 
whose imagination does not sometimes predominate 
over his reason, who can regulate his attention wholly 
by his will, and whose ideas will come and go at his 
command. No man will be found in whose mind airy 10 
notions do not sometimes tyrannize, and force him to 
hope or fear beyond the limits of sober probability. 

All power of fancy over reason is a degree of insanity, 
but while this power is such as we can control and 
repress, it is not visible to others, nor considered as 15 
any depravation of the mental faculties; it is not pro- 
nounced madness but when it becomes ungovernable, 
and apparently influences speech or action. 

“To indulge the power of fiction and send imagina- 
tion out upon the wing, is often the sport of those 20 
who delight too much in silent speculation. When we 
are alone we are not always busy; the labor of excog- 
itation is too violent to last long; the ardor of inquiry 
will sometimes give way to idleness or satiety. He 
who has nothing external that can divert him, must 25 
find pleasure in his own thoughts, and must conceive 
himself what he is not; for who is pleased with what 
he is? He then expatiates in boundless futurity, and 
culls from all imaginable conditions that which for the 
present moment he should most desire, amuses his 30 


RASSELAS. 


121 


desires with impossible enjoyments, and confers upon 
his pride unattainable dominion. The mind dances 
from scene to scene, unites all pleasures in all com- 
binations, and riots in delights which nature and for- 
5 tune, with all their bounty, cannot bestow. 

“In time some particular train of ideas fixes the 
attention; all other intellectual gratifications are 
rejected; the mind, in weariness or leisure, recurs 
constantly to the favorite conception, and feasts on the 
io luscious falsehood whenever she is offended with the 
bitterness of truth. By degrees the reign of fancy is 
confirmed; she grows first imperious and in time 
despotic. Then fictions begin to operate as realities, 
false opinions fasten upon the mind, and life passes in 
15 dreams of rapture or of anguish. 

“This, sir, is one of the dangers of solitude, which 
the hermit has confessed not always to promote good- 
ness, and the astronomer’s misery has proved to be 
not always propitious to wisdom.” 

20 ‘ ‘I will no more,” said the favorite, “imagine my- 

self the queen of Abyssinia. I have often spent the 
hours which the princess gave to my own disposal, in 
adjusting ceremonies and regulating the court; I have 
repressed the pride of the powerful, and granted the 
25 petitions of the poor; I have built new palaces in more 
happy situations, planted groves upon the tops of 
mountains, and have exulted in the beneficence of 
royalty, till, when the princess entered, I had almost 
forgotten to bow down before her.” 

30 “And I,” said the princess, “will not allow myself 
any more to play the shepherdess in my waking 
dreams. I have often soothed my thoughts with the 


122 


JOHNSON. 


quiet and innocence of pastoral employments, till I 
have in my chamber heard the winds whistle and the 
sheep bleat; sometimes freed the lamb entangled in 
the thicket, and sometimes with my crook encountered 
the wolf. I have a dress like that of the village maids, 5 
which I put on to help my imagination, and a pipe, on 
which I play softly, and suppose myself followed by 
my flocks." 

“I will confess," said the prince, "an indulgence 
of fantastic delight more dangerous than yours. 1 10 
have frequently endeavored to image the possibility of 
a perfect government, by which all wrong should be 
restrained, all vice reformed, and all the subjects pre- 
served in tranquillity and innocence. This thought 
produced memorable schemes of reformation, and 15 
dictated many useful regulations and salutary edicts. 
This has been the sport and sometimes the labor of 
my solitude, and I start when I think with how little 
anguish I once supposed the death of my father and 
my brothers." 20 

"Such," says Imlac, "are the effects of visionary 
schemes; when we first form them, we know them to 
be absurd, but familiarize them by degrees, and in 
time lose sight of their folly." 


CHAPTER XLV. 

THEY DISCOURSE WITH AN OLD MAN. 

The evening was now far past, and they rose to 
return home. As they walked along the bank of the 
Nile, delighted with the beams of the moon quivering 


RASSELAS. 


123 


on the water, they saw at a small distance an old man 
whom the prince had often heard in the assembly of 
the sages. “Yonder,” said he, “is one whose years 
have calmed his passions, but not clouded his reason. 
5 Let us close the disquisitions of the night by inquiring 
what are his sentiments of his own state, that we may 
know whether youth alone is to struggle with vexation, 
and whether any better hope remains for the latter 
part of life.” 

10 Here the sage approached and saluted them. They 
invited him to join their walk, and prattled awhile as 
acquaintance that had unexpectedly met one another. 
The old man was cheerful and talkative, and the way 
seemed short in his company. He was pleased to find 
15 himself not disregarded, accompanied them to their 
house, and, at the prince’s request, entered with 
them. They placed him in the seat of honor, and set 
wine and conserves before him. 

“Sir,” said the princess, “an evening walk must 
20 give to a man of learning like you pleasures which 
ignorance and youth can hardly conceive. You know 
the qualities and the causes of all that you behold, the 
laws by which the river flows, the periods in which the 
planets perform their revolutions. Everything must 
25 supply you with contemplation, and renew the con- 
sciousness of your own dignity.” 

“Lady,” answered he, “let the gay and the vigor- 
ous expect pleasure in their excursions ; it is enough 
that age can obtain ease. To me the world has lost its 
30 novelty. I look round, and see what I remember to 
have seen in happier days. I rest against a tree, and 
consider that in the same shade I once disputed upon 


124 


JOHNSON. 


the annual overflow of the Nile with a friend who is 
now silent in the grave. I cast my eyes upward, fix 
them on the changing moon, and think with pain on 
the vicissitudes of life. I have ceased to take much 
delight in physical truth ; for what have I to do with 5 
those things which I am soon to leave?” 

“You may at least recreate yourself,” said Imlac, 
“with the recollection of an honorable and useful life, 
and enjoy the praise which all agree to give you.” 

“Praise,” said the sage with a sigh, “is to an old 10 
man an empty sound. I have neither mother to be 
delighted with the reputation of her son, nor wife to 
partake the honors of her husband. I have outlived 
my friends and my rivals. Nothing is now of much 
importance; for I cannot extend my interest beyond 15 
myself. Youth is delighted with applause, because it 
is considered as the earnest of some future good, and 
because the prospect of life is far extended; but to 
me, who am now declining to decrepitude, there is little 
to be feared from the malevolence of men, and yet less 20 
to be hoped from their affection or esteem. Something 
they may yet take away, but they can give me noth- 
ing. Riches would now be useless, and high employ- 
ment would be pain. My retrospect of life recalls to 
my view many opportunities of good neglected, much 25 
time squandered upon trifles, and more lost in idleness 
and vacancy. I leave many great designs unat- 
tempted, and many great attempts unfinished. My 
mind is burthened with no heavy crime, and therefore 
I compose myself to tranquillity; endeavor to abstract 30 
my thoughts from hopes and cares which, though 
reason knows them to be vain, still try to keep their 


RASSELAS. 


I2 5 


old possession of the heart ; expect, with serene 
humility, that hour which nature cannot long delay, 
and hope to possess in abetter state that happiness 
which here I could not find, and that virtue which 
5 here I have not attained.*’ 

He arose and went away, leaving his audience not 
much elated with the hope of long life. The prince 
consoled himself with remarking that it was not reason- 
able to be disappointed by this account; for age had 
10 never been considered as the season of felicity, and if 
it was possible to be easy in decline and weakness, it 
was likely that the days of vigor and alacrity might be 
happy ; that the noon of life might be bright, if the 
evening could be calm. 

15 The princess suspected that age was querulous and 
malignant, and delighted to repress the expectations 
of those who had newly entered the world. She had 
seen the possessors of estates look with envy on their 
heirs, and known many who enjoy pleasure no longer 
20 than they can confine it to themselves. 

Pekuah conjectured that the man was older than he 
appeared, and was willing to impute his complaints to 
delirious dejection ; or else supposed that he had been 
unfortunate, and was therefore discontented. “For 
25 nothing, ” said she, “is more common than to call our 
own condition the condition of life.” Imlac, who had 
no desire to see them depressed, smiled at the com- 
forts which they could so readily procure to them- 
selves, and remembered that at the same age he was 
30 equally confident of unmingled prosperity, and equally 
fertile of consolatory expedients. He forbore to force 
upon them unwelcome knowledge, which time itself 


126 


JOHNSON . 


would too soon impress. The princess and her lady 
retired; the madness of the astronomer hung upon 
their minds, and they desired Imlac to enter upon his 
office, and delay next morning the rising of the sun. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 5 

THE PRINCESS AND PEKUAH VISIT THE 
ASTRONOMER. 

The princess and Pekuah having talked in private 
of Imlac’s astronomer, thought his character at once 
so amiable and so strange, that they could not be i 0 
satisfied without a nearer knowledge, and Imlac was 
requested to find the means of bringing .them together. 

This was somewhat difficult. The philosopher had 
never received any visits from women, though he lived 
in a city that had in it many Europeans, who followed 15 
the manners of their own countries, and many from 
other parts of the world, that lived there with Euro- 
pean liberty. The ladies would not be refused, and 
several schemes were proposed for the accomplish- 
ment of their design. It was proposed to introduce 20 
them as strangers in distress, to whom the sage was 
always accessible; but after some deliberation, it 
appeared that by this artifice no acquaintance could 
be formed, for their conversation would be short, and 
they could not decently importune him often. 25 
“This,” said Rasselas, “is true; but I have yet a 
stronger objection against the misrepresentation of 
your state. I have always considered it as treason 
against the great republic of human nature, to make 


RASSELAS. 


127 


any man’s virtues the means of deceiving him, whether 
on great or little occasions. All imposture weakens 
confidence and chills benevolence. When the sage 
finds that you are not what you seemed, he will feel 
5 the resentment natural to a man who, conscious of 
great abilities, discovers that he has been tricked by 
understandings meaner than his own, and perhaps the 
distrust, which he can never afterwards wholly lay aside, 
may stop the voice of counsel and close the hand of 
10 charity; and where will you find the power of restor- 
ing his benefactions to mankind, or his peace to 
himself ?” 

To this no reply was attempted, and Imlac began to 
hope that their curiosity would subside ; but next day 
15 Pekuah told him she had now found an honest pre- 
tence for a visit to the astronomer, for she would 
solicit permission to continue under him the studies in 
which she had been initiated by the Arab, and the 
princess might go with her, either as a fellow-student, 
20 or because a woman could not decently come alone. 
“I am afraid,” said Imlac, “that he will be soon 
weary of your company. Men advanced far in knowl- 
edge do not love to repeat the elements of their art, 
and I am not certain that even of the elements, as he 
25 will deliver them, connected with inferences and min- 
gled with reflections, you are a very capable auditress.” 
“That,” said Pekuah, “must be my care; I ask of 
you only to take me thither. My knowledge is per- 
haps more than you imagine it, and by concurring 
30 always with his opinions I shall make him think it 
greater than it is.” 

The astronomer, in pursuance of this resolution, 


128 


JOHNSON. 


was told that a foreign lady, travelling in search of 
knowledge, had heard of his reputation, and was 
desirous to become his scholar. The uncommonness 
of the proposal raised at once his surprise and curi- 
osity, and when after a short deliberation he consented 5 
to admit her, he could not stay without impatience till 
the next day. 

The ladies dressed themselves magnificently, and 
were attended by Imlac to the astronomer, who was 
pleased to see himself approached with respect by 10 
persons of so splendid an appearance. In the 
exchange of the first civilities he was timorous and 
bashful ; but when the talk became regular, he recol- 
lected his powers, and justified the character which 
Imlac had given. Inquiring of Pekuah what could 15 
have turned her inclination toward astronomy, he 
received from her a history of her adventure at the 
pyramid, and of the time passed in the Arab’s island. 
She told her tale with ease and elegance, and her con- 
versation took possession of his heart. The discourse 20 
was then turned to astronomy. Pekuah displayed 
what she knew. He looked upon her as a prodigy of 
genius, and entreated her not to desist from a study 
which she had so happily begun. 

They came again and again, and were every time 25 
more welcome than before. The sage endeavored to 
amuse them, that they might prolong their visits, for 
he found his thoughts grow brighter in their company; 
the clouds of solicitude vanished by degrees, as he 
forced himself to entertain them, and he grieved when 30 
he was left, at their departure, to his old employment 
of regulating the seasons. 


RASSELAS. 


129 


The princess and her favorite had now watched his 
lips for several months, and could not catch a single 
word from which they could judge whether he con- 
tinued, or not, in the opinion of his preternatural 
5 commission. They often contrived to bring him to 
an open declaration, but he easily eluded all their 
attacks, and on which side soever they pressed him, 
escaped from them to some other topic. 

As their familiarity increased, they invited him 
10 often to the house of Imlac, where they distinguished 
him by extraordinary respect. He began gradually to 
delight in sublunary pleasures. He came early and 
departed late; labored to recommend himself by 
assiduity and compliance; excited their curiosity after 
15 new arts, that they might still want his assistance; and 
when they made any excursion of pleasure or inquiry, 
entreated to attend them. 

By long experience of his integrity and wisdom, the 
prince and his sister were convinced that he might be 
20 trusted without danger; and lest he should draw any 
false hopes from the civilities which he received, dis- 
covered to him their condition, with the motives of 
their journey, and required his opinion on the choice 
of life. 

25 “Of the various conditions which the world spreads 
before you, which you shall prefer,” said the sage, “I 
am not able to instruct you. I can only tell that I 
have chosen wrong. I have passed my time in study 
without experience; in the attainment of sciences which 
30 can, for the most part, be but remotely useful to man- 
kind. I have purchased knowledge at the expense of 
all the common comforts of life; I have missed the 


JOHNSON. 


130 

endearing elegance of female friendship, and the 
happy commerce of domestic tenderness. If I have 
obtained any prerogatives above other students, they 
have been accompanied with fear, disquiet, and scru- 
pulosity; but even of these prerogatives, whatever 5 
they were, I have, since my thoughts have been 
diversified by more intercourse with the world, begun 
to question the reality. When I have been for a few 
days lost in pleasing dissipation, I am always tempted 
to think that my inquiries have ended in error, and 10 
that I have suffered much, and suffered it in vain.” 

Imlac was delighted to find that the sage’s under- 
standing was breaking through its mists, and resolved 
to detain him from the planets till he should forget 
his task of ruling them, and reason should recover its 15 
original influence. 

From this time the astronomer was received into 
familiar friendship, and partook of all their projects 
and pleasures; his respect kept him attentive, and the 
activity of Rasselas did not leave much time unen- 20 
gaged. Something was always to be done; the day 
was spent in making observations, which furnished 
talk for the evening, and the evening was closed with 
a scheme for the morrow. 

The sage confessed to Imlac, that since he had 25 
mingled in the gay tumults of life, and divided his 
hours by a succession of amusements, he found the 
conviction of his authority over the skies fade grad- 
ually from his mind, and began to trust less to an 
opinion which he never could prove to others, and 30 
which he now found subject to variation, from causes 
in which reason had no part. “If I am accidentally 


RA SSELA S. 


3 T 


left alone for a few hours," said he, "my inveterate 
persuasion rushes upon my soul, and my thoughts are 
chained down by some irresistible violence; but they 
are soon disentangled by the prince’s conversation, 
5 and instantaneously released at the entrance of 
Pekuah. I am like a man habitually afraid of spec- 
tres, who is set at ease by a lamp, and wonders at the 
dread which harassed him in the dark; yet, if his lamp 
be extinguished, feels again the terrors which he knows 
io that when it is light he shall feel no more. But I am 
sometimes afraid, lest I indulge my quiet by criminal 
negligence, and voluntarily forget the great charge 
with which I am entrusted. If I favor myself in a 
known error, or am determined by my own ease in a 
15 doubtful question of this importance, how dreadful is 
my crime!" 

"No disease of the imagination," answered Imlac, 
* ‘is so difficult of cure as that which is complicated 
with the dread of guilt. Fancy and conscience then 
20 act interchangeably upon us, and so often shift their 
places, that the illusions of one are not distinguished 
from the dictates of the other. If fancy presents 
images not moral or religious, the mind drives them 
away when they give it pain; but when melancholic 
25 notions take the form of duty, they lay hold on the 
faculties without opposition, because we are afraid to 
exclude or banish them. For this reason the supersti- 
tious are often melancholy, and the melancholy almost 
always superstitious. 

3 o "But do not let the suggestions of timidity over- 
power your better reason; the danger of neglect can be 
but as the probability of the obligation, which, when 


i3 2 


JOHNSON. 


you consider it with freedom, you find very little, and 
that little growing every day less. Open your heart 
to the influence of the light, which from time to time 
breaks in upon you. When scruples importune you, 
which you in your lucid moments know to be vain, do 5 
not stand to parley, but fly to business or to Pekuah; 
and keep this thought always prevalent, that you are 
only one atom of the mass of humanity, and have 
neither such virtue nor vice, as that you should be 
singled out for supernatural favors or afflictions.” 10 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

THE PRINCE ENTERS, AND BRINGS A NEW TOPIC. 

“All this,” said the astronomer, “I have often 
thought, but my reason has been so long subjugated 
by an uncontrollable and overwhelming idea, that it 15 
durst not confide in its own -decisions. I now see 
how fatally I betrayed my quiet, by suffering chimeras 
to prey upon me in secret; but melancholy shrinks 
from communication, and I never found a man before 
to whom I could impart my troubles, though I had 20 
been certain of relief. I rejoice to find my own sen- 
timents confirmed by yours, who are not easily de- 
ceived, and can have no motive or purpose to deceive. 

I hope that time and variety will dissipate the gloom 
that has so long surrounded me, and the latter part of 25 
my days will be spent in peace.” 

“Your learning and virtue,” said Imlac, ‘‘may 
justly give you hopes.” 

Rasselas then entered, with the princess and Pekuah, 


RASSELAS. 


133 


and inquired whether they had contrived any new 
diversion for the next day. “Such,” said Nekayah, 
“is the state of life, that none are happy but by the 
anticipation of change. The change itself is nothing; 
5 when we have made it the next wish is to change 
again. The world is not yet exhausted; let me see 
something to-morrow which I never saw before.” 

“Variety,” said Rasselas, “is so necessary to con- 
tent, that even the happy valley disgusted me by the 
10 recurrence of its luxuries; yet I could not forbear 
to reproach myself with impatience, when I saw the 
monks of St. Anthony support, without complaint, a 
life, not of uniform delight, but uniform hardship.” 

“Those men,” answered Imlac, “are less wretched 
15 in their silent convent than the Abyssinian princes in 
their prison of pleasure. Whatever is done by the 
monks is incited by an adequate and reasonable 
motive. Their labor supplies them with necessaries; 
it therefore, cannot be omitted, and is certainly re- 
20 warded. Their devotion prepares them for another 
state, and reminds them of its approach while it fits 
them for it. Their time is regularly distributed; one 
duty succeeds another, so that they are not left open 
to the distraction of unguided choice, nor lost in the 
25 shades of listless inactivity. There is a certain task to 
be performed at an appropriated hour, and their toils 
are cheerful, because they consider them as acts of 
piety, by which they are always advancing towards 
endless felicity.” 

30 “Do you think,” said Nekayah, “that the monastic 
rule is a more holy and less imperfect state than any 
other? May not he equally hope for future happiness 


134 


JOHNSON. 


who converses openly with mankind, who succors the 
distressed by his charity, instructs the ignorant by his 
learning, and contributes by his industry to the general 
system of life, even though he should omit some of 
the mortifications which are practised in the cloister, 
and allow himself such harmless delights as his condi- 
tion may place within his reach?” 

“This,” said Imlac, “is a question which has long 
divided the wise and perplexed the good. I am afraid 
to decide on either part. He that lives well in the 
world is better than he that lives well in a monastery. 
But perhaps everyone is not able to stem the tempta- 
tions of public life, and if he cannot conquer he may 
properly retreat. Some have little power to do good, 
and have likewise little strength to resist evil. Many 
are weary of their conflicts with adversity, and are 
willing to eject those passions which have long busied 
them in vain. And many are dismissed by age and 
diseases from the more laborious duties of society. In 
monasteries the weak and timorous may be happily 
sheltered, the weary may repose, and the penitent 
may meditate. Those retreats of prayer and contem- 
plation have something so congenial to the mind of 
man, that perhaps there is scarcely one that does not 
purpose to close his life in pious abstraction, with a 
few associates serious as himself.” 

“Such,” said Pekuah, “has often been my wish, 
and I have heard the princess declare that she should 
not willingly die in a crowd.” 

“The liberty of using harmless pleasures,” pro- 
ceeded Imlac, “will not be disputed; but it is still to 
be examined what pleasures are harmless. The evil 


5 

io 

15 

20 

25 

30 


RASSELAS. 


*35 


of any pleasure that Nekayah can image is not in the 
act itself, but in its consequences. Pleasure, in itself 
harmless, may become mischievous by endearing to us 
a state which we know to be transient and probatory, 
5 and withdrawing our thoughts from that of which 
every hour brings us nearer to the beginning, and of 
which no length of time will bring us to the end. 
Mortification is not virtuous in itself, nor has any other 
use but that it disengages us from the allurements 
io of sense. In the state of future perfection to which we 
all aspire, there will be pleasure without danger and 
security without restraint.” 

The princess was silent, and Rasselas, turning to 
the astronomer, asked him whether he could not delay 
15 her retreat by showing her something which she had 
not seen before. 

“Your curiosity,” said the sage, “has been so 
general, and your pursuit of knowledge so vigorous, 
that novelties are not now very easily to be found; but 
20 what you can no longer procure from the living may 
be given by the dead. Among the wonders of this 
country are the catacombs, or the ancient repositories 
in which the bodies of the earliest generations were 
lodged, and where, by the virtue of the gums which 
25 embalmed them, they yet remain without corruption.” 

“I know not,” said Rasselks, “what pleasure the 
sight of the catacombs can afford ; but, since nothing 
else is offered, I am resolved to view them, and shall 
place this with many other things which I have done 
30 because I would do something.” 

They hired a guard of horsemen, and the next day 
visited the catacombs. When they were about to 


136 


JOHNSON . 


descend into the sepulchral caves, “Pekuah,” said the 
princess, “we are now again invading the habitations 
of the dead. I know that you will stay behind; let me 
find you safe when I return.” “No, I will not be 
left,” answered Pekuah, “I will go down between you 5 
and the prince.” 

They then all descended, and roved with wonder 
through the labyrinth of subterraneous passages, 
where the bodies were laid in rows on either side. 


CHAPTER XLVIII. 10 

IMLAC DISCOURSES ON THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 

“What reason,” said the prince, “can be given 
why the Egyptians should thus expensively preserve 
those carcasses which some nations consume with fire, 
others lay to mingle with the earth, and all agree to 15 
remove from their sight as soon as decent rites can be 
performed?” 

“The original of ancient customs,” said Imlac, “is 
commonly unknown, for the practice often continues 
when the cause has ceased ; and concerning supersti- 20 
tious ceremonies it is vain to conjecture, for what 
reason did not dictate, reason cannot explain. I have 
long believed, that the practice of embalming arose only 
from tenderness to the remains of relations or friends, 
and to this opinion I am more inclined because it 25 
seems impossible that this care should have been 
general; had all the dead been embalmed, their 
repositories must in time have been more spacious 
than the dwellings of the living. I suppose only the 


RASSELAS. 137 

rich or honorable were secured from corruption, and 
the rest left to the course of nature. 

“But it is commonly supposed that the Egyptians 
believed the soul to live as long as the body continued 
5 undissolved, and therefore tried this method of elud- 
ing death.” 

“Could the wise Egyptians,” said Nekayah, “think 
so grossly of the soul? If the soul could once survive 
its separation, what could it afterwards receive or 
10 suffer from the body?” 

“The Egyptians would doubtless think erroneously,” 
said the astronomer, “in the darkness of heathenism, 
and the first dawn of philosophy. The nature of the 
soul is still disputed amidst all our opportunities 
15 of clearer knowledge; some yet say that it may 
be material, who, nevertheless, believe it to be 
immortal.” 

“Some,” answered Imlac, “have indeed said that 
the soul is material, but I can scarcely believe that 
20 any man has thought it who knew how to think; for 
all the conclusions of reason enforce the immateriality 
of the mind, and all the notices of sense and investi- 
gations of science concur to prove the unconscious- 
ness of matter. 

25 “It was never supposed that cogitation is inherent 
in matter, or that every particle is a thinking being. 
Yet if any part of matter be devoid of thought, what 
part can we suppose to think? Matter can differ from 
matter only in form, density, bulk, motion, and 
30 direction of motion. To which of these, however 
varied or combined, can consciousness be annexed? 
To be round or square, to be solid or fluid, to be 


138 


JOHNSON. 


great or little, to be moved slowly or swiftly one way 
or another, are modes of material existence all equally 
alien from the nature of cogitation. If matter be 
once without thought, it can only be made to think by 
some new modification; but all the modifications 5 
which it can admit are equally unconnected with 
cogitative powers.” 

‘‘But the materialists,” said the astronomer, ‘‘urge 
that matter may have qualities with which we are 
unacquainted.” 10 

‘‘He who will determine,” returned Imlac, ‘‘against 
that which he knows, because there may be something 
which he knows not; he that can set hypothetical 
possibility against acknowledged certainty, is not to be 
admitted among reasonable beings. All that we know 15 
of matter is, that matter is inert, senseless, and life- 
less; and if this conviction cannot be opposed but by 
referring us to something that we know not, we have 
all the evidence that human intellect can admit. If 
that which is known may be overruled by that which 20 
is unknown, no being, not omniscient, can arrive at 
certainty.” 

‘‘Yet let us not,” said the astronomer, ‘‘too arro- 
gantly limit the Creator’s power.” 

‘‘It is no limitation of omnipotence,” replied the 25 
poet, ‘‘to suppose that one thing is not consistent with 
another, that the same proposition cannot be at once 
true and false, that the same number cannot be even 
and odd, that cogitation cannot be conferred on that 
which is created incapable of cogitation.” 3 o 

‘‘I know not,” said Nekayah, ‘‘any great use of 
this question. Does that immateriality, which in my 


EASSELAS. 139 

opinion you have sufficiently proved, necessarily 
include eternal duration?” 

“Of immateriality,” said Imlac, “our ideas are 
negative, and therefore obscure. Immateriality 

5 seems to imply a natural power of perpetual duration 
as a consequence of exemption from all causes of 
decay. Whatever perishes is destroyed by the solu- 
tion of its contexture, and separation of its parts; nor 
can we conceive how that which has no parts, and 
10 therefore admits no solution, can be naturally cor- 
rupted or impaired.” 

‘‘I know not,” said Rasselas, “how to conceive 
anything without extension. What is extended must 
have parts, and you allow that whatever has parts 
15 may be destroyed.” 

“Consider your own conceptions,” replied Imlac, 
“and the difficulty will be less. You will find sub- 
stance without extension. An ideal form is no less 
real than material bulk; yet an ideal form has no 
20 extension. It is no less certain, when you think on 
a pyramid, that your mind possesses the idea of a 
pyramid, than that the pyramid itself is standing. 
What space does the idea of a pyramid occupy more 
than the idea of a grain of corn? or how can either 
25 idea suffer laceration? As is the effect, such is the 
cause; as thought is, such is the power that thinks, 
a power impassive and indiscerptible.” 

“But the Being,” said Nekayah, “whom I fear to 
name, the Being which made the soul, can destroy it.” 
30 “He surely can destroy it,” answered Imlac, 
“since, however unperishable in itself, it receives 
from a higher nature its power of duration. That it 


140 


JOHNSON. 


will not perish by any inherent cause or principle of 
corruption, may be collected from philosophy; but 
philosophy can tell no more. That it will not be 
annihilated by him that made it, we must humbly 
learn from higher authority.” 5 

The whole assembly stood awhile silent and col- 
lected. “Let us return,” said Rasselas, “from this 
scene of mortality. How gloomy would be these 
mansions of the dead to him who did not know that 
he shall never die; that what now acts shall continue io 
its agency, and what now thinks shall think on forever. 
Those that lie here stretched before us, the wise and 
the powerful of ancient times, warn us to remember 
the shortness of our present state; they were perhaps 
snatched away while they were busy, like us, in the 15 
choice of life. ” 

“To me,” said the princess, “the choice of life is 
become less important; I hope hereafter to think only 
on the choice of eternity.” 

They then hastened out of the caverns, and under 20 
the protection of their guard returned to Cairo. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

THE CONCLUSION, IN WHICH NOTHING IS 
CONCLUDED. 

It was now the time of the inundation of the Nile. 25 
A few days after their visit to the catacombs the river 
began to rise. 

They were confined to their house. The whole 
region being under water, gave them no invitation to 


RASSELAS. 


141 

any excursions, and being well supplied with materials 
for talk, they diverted themselves with comparisons 
of the different forms of life which they had observed, 
and with various schemes of happiness which each of 
5 them had formed. 

Pekuah was never so much charmed with any place 
as the convent of St. Anthony, where the Arab 
restored her to the princess, and wished only to fill it 
with pious maidens and to be made prioress of the 
10 order; she was weary of expectation and disgust, and 
would gladly be fixed in some unvariable state. 

The princess thought that, of all sublunary things, 
knowledge was the best. She desired first to learn all 
sciences, and then purposed to found a college of 
15 learned women, in which she would preside, that, by 
conversing with the old and educating the young, she 
might divide her time between the acquisition and 
communication of wisdom, and raise up for the next 
age models of prudence and patterns of piety. 

20 The prince desired a little kingdom in which he 
might administer justice in his own person and see all 
the parts of government with his own eyes; but he 
could never fix the limits of his dominion, and was 
always adding to the number of his subjects. 

25 Imlac and the astronomer were contented to be 
driven along the stream of life, without directing their 
course to any particular port. 

Of these wishes that they had formed, they well 
knew that none could be obtained. They deliberated 
30 awhile what was to be done, and resolved, when the 
inundation should cease, to return to Abyssinia. 




















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